


Transformers: Uprising

by Saya444



Series: Transformers Titan [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 121,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saya444/pseuds/Saya444
Summary: Prequel to Titan. In the twilight years of the golden age, Cybertron is a divided world where one's function dictates their place in society. Before the words Autobot and Decepticon had meaning, there were just a few individuals who sought to make their world a better place. Before Optimus was a Prime, he fought for order. Before Nightshade was a soldier, she fought for freedom. Before Megatron became a conqueror, he fought for equality. Before they were enemies, they fought for Cybertron. Before the Great War, there was...the Uprising.





	1. Orion Pax

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in the prequel trilogy to Transformers Titan. You can read this and Awakening on the official Transformers Titan website. Link is in my profile.

Transformers Titan

Uprising

Chapter 1-Orion Pax

Iacon was the cradle of civilization on Cybertron. One of the first city-states to form during the Age of Evolution, Iacon was a cultural center that promoted the pursuit of knowledge and science in an era of war and savagery. The entire city was constructed of a golden—hued alloy that enabled the city to shine beautifully in the sunlight as if it was the fabled Crystal City. The buildings were towering and monumental, looking like they might take off at a moment’s notice. It was a testament to the architects who built Iacon from the ground up, a monument to aspirations…only there were no aspirations among cybertronians anymore.

It was a common misconception among the populace that Iacon was a city without crime. It was a perfect settlement, devoid of the criminals and degenerates that marred the wholesome image of other city-states. After all, who would want to cause trouble in the seat of the Prime and Senate itself? They were wrong.

Iacon was no different from any other city when it came to crime, but much of its evil was of a more subtle sort. The kind of evil that you can’t see with the naked eye, where you have to go deep under Iacon’s shining surface of gold in order to find another layer of black slithering underneath. Because even the tall, golden skyscrapers casted long, dark shadows behind them.

It was the middle of the night in Iacon. The city was still alight with the blinding lights of the towers and streets that wove in between the buildings. So great was this radiance that the night sky was devoid of stars, covered by the combined lights of the city. Light pollution at its greatest. But the bots down below, the mechs and femmes of the planet’s capital, didn’t care about that. They were concerned about their own lives, trying to live every day without problems uprooting their usual routines.

But far from the heart of Iacon, in a district of the city known as Rodion, something big was about to go down. Near the factory sector where cargo and shipments from across the Toruc city-states arrived in, four groups of twelve mech squads of police officers and special forces soldiers were hiding amongst the buildings and rooftops, eying one particular warehouse with utmost scrutiny. They were in the process of raiding a smuggling operation going on near the port, a large one.

Sitting on top of a building close to the target zone with the rest of his squad, was a police officer named Orion Pax. A red and blue mech of average height and build, Orion was completely focused on the holo-vid in front of him it was showing footage of a drone that was recording what was going on inside. His expression was unreadable as he watched mechs lift and carry what were obviously crates of illegal shipments.

“Looks like we hit a goldmine.” The blue mech next to him said. “I knew this was a big operation, but I didn’t think that it’d be something this large. How did they get so many shipments into the city without people raising the red flag?”

“Bribes, murder, and a cut of the winnings Dion. You know how it goes.” Orion said.

Dion leaned forward to get a closer look. “It looks that like most of them are just low level scrubs. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Don’t get too arrogant. We don’t know what’s in those crates. If they’re shipping illegal weapons into our borders, then we’ll be in for one hell of a night.”

An officer jogged up to them and saluted. “I just got word from the Captain. She says that the operation is coming underway.”

“Thanks.” Orion nodded. He keyed his comm. unit. “All units are you in position?”

“ _Squad C in position.”_

_“Squad B in position.”_

_“Squad D ready and waiting sir.”_

Orion looked at his own squad and saw that they were also ready to get the party started. Dion nodded and Orion stood up, fingering his blaster, he nodded to his officers.

“Perfect. On my signal…”

Inside the warehouse, the unsuspecting mechs were moving large and heavy crates off the ship that just came in. On the side, Doubledealer, a blue and purple mech of questionable occupation, was overseeing the transport with a keen eye. His partner in crime, Axel, was checking out the merchandise like he just won a bet at a racing tournament.

“Watch it you morons!” He shouted at a group of mechs that dropped a crate. “Those things nearly cost me an arm and a leg to get. If they get damaged, I’m taking your heads!” He sighed. “Damn it. It’s so hard to get good help these days.”

“Whoo boy! These are beautiful works of art!” Axel grinned. He opened a crate and looked inside. “No way, is this a Nucleon Grade Positron cannon?”

“It is.” Doubledealer said. “These weapons aren’t the kind you’ll find in the Elite Guard munitions facilities. This stuff is illegal as slag. Like the ion displacer.” He hefted a large triple barreled cannon onto his shoulder with a grunt. “This thing is used by the Primal Vanguard believe it or not.”

“But I thought it’s illegal?”

“Of course it is. Doesn’t stop those pompous snots in the Senate from stockpiling them though.” Doubledealer laughed. “Big Zam sent out an order for this a few solar cycles ago, and they we’re gonna pick some up for him.”

“How much is he paying?” Axel asked.

“Nearly 10,000 Shanix.” At Axel’s look of awe he nodded. “Yeah, I had the same reaction. Now I think there’s a fusion cannon somewhere around here, but I can’t find the damn thing. The crates aren’t even marked.”

Suddenly the windows and doors were busted open and a flood bots in blue and white armor came flooding in.

“Police, lower your weapons and surrender peacefully!”

The smugglers didn’t take too kindly to that. They either panicked and tried to run or they brought out their weapons and began shooting. Within seconds the entire warehouse was in chaos as both sides opened fire on each other. During the chaos Doubledealer and Axel ran through the chaos, shoving anyone out of their way as they made a break for the south entrance.

“Stop right the-“

Doubledealer blasted the cops at the door with his ion displacer, killing two of them in a shower of sparks and metal, and shearing the third cop’s arm and much of his torso off. They pushed past the wounded cops and ran outside into the alley.

“Slag!” Dion shouted. “Orion, we’ve got two runners heading down the west entrance. One of them is carrying some firepower!”

“ _”I’m on my way.”_

Axel tried not to let the sight of the police ships overhead make him panic but it was getting really hard to stay calm. He followed Doubledealer down the alley but nearly knocked him over when he stopped short. There was a squad blocking the entrance to the alley.

“Of fragging course.” Doubledealer groweled. Dion appeared behind them and leveled his gun at them.

“Freeze! Put the weapon down and-“

“I’m not going to prison you slag sucking scraplets!” Axel shouted as he unleased a volley of missile fire from his shoulder cannons. Doubledealer did the same with his ion displacer and they forced the cops to take cover.

“Damn it.” Dion cursed. He saw another officer get annihilated by Axel and tried to get a lock on the mech. “Where do they get these things?”

“Follow my lead!” Doubledealer shouted over the loud noise of the ion displacer, which sounded like a malfunctioning battleship engine. “I’m going to carve a path for us. On three! One…two…thr-“

A red and blue truck landed on top of Doubledealer, crushing him under its weight. Axel only had a second to process what happened to his partner when the truck reconfigured into a mech and did a spin kick to his face. Axel crashed into the wall, and tried to fire his missile launchers but Orion closed the distance between him and an elbow to the face quickly took him offline.

Dion and the surviving officers cautiously got out from their hiding places and saw Orion Pax standing over the two unconscious mechs, looking only a little dirty from the scuffle.

“Are you all okay?” He asked.

“We’re fine, Pax. Just fine.” Dion smiled.

And that’s why they called him the supercop.

XXXXXXXX

The Rodion Police Department was nearly empty tonight. It was usually busy with either some officers hauling in criminals or some bots hanging around doing paperwork. But after the successful raid, things were quiet. Everyone went home or were out on patrol. Even in a sparkling city like Iacon, they had to be vigilant, for crime was not as see-through as it was in other cities.

Orion Pax sat in his office, which was situated near a perfect view of the downtown area, which was bustling even at this time of night. Having already given his report on the raid, and congratulations from Chief Quikshadow, he returned to the solitude of his office to finish up some last minute files he was working on. But somewhere down the line he got sidetracked by another thing that he had been planning to read for some time now.

For a member of the law enforcement caste, Orion was an avid reader. Dion often joked that with all the stories he read, he was probably a data clerk in another life. Orion was inclined to agree with him on that statement. For him, reading of old Cybertron was a good escape from his hectic life as a police officer.

He liked reading about what Cybertron was like during the Golden Age, when Cybertron had maintained links with other planets in the stellar horizon. Connected via a network of space bridges, populations of cybertronians colonizing far off planets stayed in contact with Cybertron. Archon, Neutronia, Nijita, all were a part of a great cybertronian commonwealth. Now the space bridges had long since fallen into disrepair and degraded. Only one remained intact, but Primus knows if it was still operational. It had been so long since it was last used, no one knew if it worked any more. Not even the data clerks of the data caste, who went their whole lives cataloging history, knew exactly how long it had been.

Orion was a mech who had no aspirations of traveling to the stars. He was no proud warrior who fought for the ideals of the Thirteen Primes or crusade amongst the stars mapping the universe. He was perfectly content living his (mostly) simple life doing what he did best-helping people and keeping the streets of his home safe. Other castes dealt with planetary defense, construction engineering…and energon mining.

Which had brought him to his current situation. He was reading a manifesto that was written by an enigmatic energon miner named Megatron. It was strange, as Tarn was a place known for its hazardous working conditions, terrible weather and harboring even worse denizens-not philosophers. But indeed he was holding the very popular writings of Megatron of Tarn. He had learned bits and pieces about this mech from the smugglers, drug dealers and petty crooks who came from the lower castes. One of them being that Megatron was a famous gladiator.

To say that the content of these writings were controversial was an understatement. They were downright blasphemous in some places, disrespecting the caste system and pretty much calling the Senate and the Functionist council out on having no reason for enforcing their rules other than to keep the power they had granted themselves through such a system.

Even now, Orion was reading a passage from the essay. It read:

_In a society built around the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy that is excessively revised and reinterpreted, the one thing that never changes-the one thing that must never change-is the system that itself. Every revision, every reinterpretation, takes place within a rigid framework of social stratification. Nothing must threaten the functionists’ core philosophy: utility as an organizing principal._

_If you could step outside the system, you would recognize it for what it is: a prison. Worst than that, it is a prison full of willing prisoners. And not only a are you a prisoner within the system, you are a prisoner in your own body. Whether you were born or made, forged or constructed cold, you are trapped inside your alt mode. The functionists built the lock and the Senate holds the key; but most of us are unaware we are locked in._

_Make no mistake: your life is being mapped out in front of you, as clear as the grooves in your T-cog. You can no more change jobs than Cybertron can choose to stop orbiting the sun. You can no more acquire a skill unrelated to you vocation than the sky can acquire a conscience._

_In denying you the ability to reject you alt mode-in preventing you from pursuing a path of your own choosing-both the senate and the functionists say they are acting in your bests interests. They have a responsibility, they say, to ensure that you make the best use of you god-given form. If you turn into a drill, it is because Primus knows that Cybertron needs drills. To deviate from your function is to risk invoking the wrath of god and bringing the world to its knees._

_In truth it is about control. A multi-skilled population is an empowered population. And if you reject your alt mode, what next? Would you reject your caste? Would you reject your government?_

_Even if you believe in the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, ask yourself this: who decides on that order? And then: why should there be an order? And that is the question that the senate and the functionists fear the most, because they know that their world would collapse if people arrived at the answer. Why should there be an order? I’ll tell you: there shouldn’t be._

_Be happy in your work, they say, for it enriches you. Be grateful for your alt mode, for it defines you. Be thankful for the system-it protects you. Be mindful of your betters-they think for you. I say enough. Reject your work. Reject your alt mode. Resist the system, and your ‘betters’? You have none. We are all qual. And we have a right to decide how to live our lives._

‘Bold words.’ Orion thought. Those were certainly powerful and inspiring words coming from a miner.

This was from the fourth volume in a five volume series known as Towards Peace. These manifestos were all the rage in the Badlands, and it was also starting to pop up in middle caste city-states like Ky-Alexia and the Torus States. Orion read the first four, but not by choice, mind you. Someone kept leaving them there on his desk every few days and he had no idea who did it. The security cameras showed no one entering his room, and the door, which was always locked when he wasn’t in the building, didn’t show any signs of forced entry.

Orion enjoyed reading this anyway. He found himself unable to look away once he started reading. He could understand why Megatron got so popular among the lower caste bots. His words were powerful and attracted a lot of attention, not to mention oddly specific in how things are the way they are. Megatron was essentially encouraging people to open their eyes and see the world for what it was-a society trapped in a form of stasis that was too strong for one bot, mech or femme, to shatter alone. A stasis caused by functionism.

Functionism-a social structure that organized a cybertronian’s role in society based on their alt mode. Upon maturation from the protoform stage, bots were taught how to transform, and based on their alt mode, they were placed within one of many different castes. Some were placed into labor castes, others into engineering, and some like Orion were placed into law enforcement roles. Different castes had different jobs, and your alt mode dictated what jobs you could take within a caste. It all depended on how useful your alt mode was in the long run.

It was way things had always been, since the waning years of the Golden Age as a way to bring order to the chaos caused by the scare of the Rust Plague that brought about the end of the space bridge network. Orion didn’t really care personally for it, though he knew some bots who treated functionism like it was religious scripture from Primus himself. He never really heard anyone go into such detail about why the system as a whole was flawed and allowed corruption to fester in high places. This wasn’t the ramblings of a lunatic-this was the words of someone who knew what they were talking about.

“Yo Pax.” Dion appeared in the doorway. “Our shift’s over, so we can leave now. You wanna head over to McAddams and get some drinks?”

“Sorry, I can’t.” Orion said. “I have someplace to go.”

“You heading to the Hall of Records?” Dion grinned as he saw Orion’s surprised face. “Don’t look so surpised. There are only a few places you go to after work. Home, McAddams and the Hall.”

“You know me too well.” He smiled.

“Only because you’re so predictable.” Dion replied and waved at his partner. “See ya tomorrow, Pax.”

Orion watched Dion go before packing up his things and leaving his office. Exiting the Department, Orion was met with the crisp night air of his home neighborhood, Rodion. The streets were still crowded despite it being the middle of the night, but he still had some time to kill before he had to head on home. He didn’t want to turn down an invitation to free drinks at the bar, but he knew that if he started drinking he’d forget all about his plans, and be left with a headache the next morning. Not a good look for a model cop like himself.

Placing the data pad into his hip compartment, Orion transformed into his alt mode and drove down the dark street towards the Hall of Records.

XXXXXXXX

The Hall of Records is one of-if not THE most-important buildings on the planet. It serves as the repository of the accumulated sum of Cybertron’s history, from the mythical battles of the warring tribes and the Patterner scribes that predated the Seeker group, to the end years of the Golden Age. Inside the domed building, data clerks and analysts roamed the large halls, recording, cataloging and storing data transmissions that passed through the Communications Grid that invisibly spanned all of Cybertron.

The Hall was closed to the public. No one saved government officials, military leaders and members of the cultural investigator caste were allowed to go into the Hall. But Orion had some friends in high places within the Data caste that allowed him to enter with a special pass. Why it was so, he did not know, but he was grateful all the same.

“Welcome to our humble abode, Orion Pax!” A sweet voice chirped.

No sooner had Orion entered the main hall had he found himself facing one of his good friends, Elita-1. She was a lovely femme with rose colored armor and the brightest blue eyes one could see on a femme from the data caste. She transformed into a car, but her body was slender enough to hide most of her alt mode’s features. A lot of bots, himself included, wondered how he got to become friends with such a pretty femme when he had almost no social life outside of work. He would’ve said that Primus was smiling down on him, but he wasn’t a religious mech.

“Hello, Elita,” Orion greeted her. “Still working late?”

“I’m covering for a friend of mine who’s helping out over at the Programmers Guild. Something about discovering clues to the Knights of Cybertron or whatever.” She shrugged. “Anyway, you’re right on time. Alpha Trion is waiting for you.”

“Really? But I never called head.” He said.

“He said something about having a strong feeling that you’d be here and asked me to meet you at the door.” She replied. At his puzzled look, Elita gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. You know how he is sometimes. But I can’t say that his little predictions aren’t right on the dot though. Now I got to get back to work before the overseer scolds me again.”

Orion gave her a pitying look and patted her shoulder. “He’ll find an excuse to rat on you for something.”

“I know.” Elita sighed. “See you later.”

He watched her go and jogged across the lobby towards the elevator, which he took to the very top of the building. The Hall of Records rose thousands of feet into the air, as well as thousands of leagues underground. Each floor holding billions of gigabytes of data pertaining to some aspect of cybertronian history.

Once the elevator reached the top floor, Orion stepped out onto the large floor and was greeted by an amazing view of the Iaconian skyline, lights looking like twinkling jewels. Looking out the window never got old, and it was even more amazing when seen at noon.

He approached the office, where he pressed the button to announce his presence. A second later the door slid open and he entered the room. Sitting at a lone desk amidst stacks of old data pads was an old mech writing in a large tome that looked almost as big as Orion’s head.

“Alpha Trion.” Orion said.

“Orion, it’s good to see you again.” Alpha Trion, Head Archivist of the data caste, looked up at the mech and smiled. “I was beginning to worry that you forgotten all about me. Congratulations on your successful raid last night.”

“How did you-never mind.” Orion had gotten used to Alpha Trion’s seemingly uncanny habit of knowing things without anybody telling him. It was just one of many perks the old mech had that made him special.

Alpha Trion was an old mech, how old, Orion did not know. But he did know that he was surprisingly tall, a few inches taller than Nominus Prime in fact. His dark purple armor was worn with age with a long metal cape attached to his shoulders, and his yellow eyes dimmer than the average mechanoid. He even had a-what was it?-a beard, that most organics have when they reached a great age.

He had been a trusted friend of Orion’s for as long as he could remember. The Archivist had met him when he was still attending the Iacon Institute of Science and Technology during a course on the history of Golden Age technology. In fact, Orion met Elita, who was Trion’s personal secretary, through Alpha Trion. He had been a sort of confidant, someone he could talk to about politically sensitive subjects without fear of getting himself arrested or worse. The Archivist was an open-minded mech.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, Orion.” Alpha Trion said. “I’d expect nothing else from Rodion’s supercop.”

Orion groaned. That nickname was something one of his colleagues said to him in jest, and somehow I stuck with him for the rest of his career. He wasn’t anyone special, just a mech doing his job.

“As appreciative of your coming here, I’m guessing that this is not just a social visit.” The Archivist said.

“I seek advice.” Orion took out his data pad and handed it to Alpha Trion.

He eyed the stylus sitting on top o the old crimson book lying on his desk. The Archivist of Iacon had databases and hard copy records of virtually everything that happened in Cybertron’s history, yet he chose a stylus and book as his interface. Orion attributed this to his eccentric habits brought about by old age.

Alpha Trion tapped his stylus on the desk as he read the data pad, eyes set on an intense gaze of concentration.

“This certainly is interesting.” He muttered. “Megatron of Tarn.”

“Something about him caught my attention.” Orion said. “He just appeared a few deca-cycles ago, but he’s already gained a massive following through his writings alone. I thought it was strange, so I came to you.”

“You are curious about him. An mech from the mining caste who speaks like an intellectual from Noav Cronum.” Alpha Trion said. “Who is this upstart?”

“From what I could gather, he’s an energon miner from Tarn. He also is a champion in the gladiator arenas. For someone who kills for a living, I never thought that such a person could get so famous through words alone. He speaks about how flawed the caste system and functionism in general is flawed. He seeks to change cybertronian way of life in a way that is nothing short of ambitious.” Orion noted.

“Ambition,” Alpha Trion said wistfull. “That is not a quality encouraged on Cybertron.”

Orion noted the far away lok in the Archivist’s eyes, as if he was remembering something from long ago. Considering how old he was, he had probably been in a situation like this before and this news of Megatron was just bringing back memories. After a few quiet moments of silence, Aplha Trion spoke once more.

“Go home, Orion. I will look into this Megatron. Once your shift ends tomorrow, return here and I will tell you what I have learned.”

XXXXXXXX

Alpha Trion watched Orion leave his office and gave a tired sigh. Odd how a mech from the law enforcement caste could have such knowledge of the past. He would’ve made a great data clerk. But alas he had some work to do, not just for Orion, but out of his own personal curiosity as well.

Megatron. That name brought up a lot of memories for him. Memories that he had spent a long time trying to bury. For such a mech to be born with a name like that, and then go down the path of most resistance to change an entire world and its way of thinking-the similarities were startling.

Alpha Trion could tell that this was only the start of something big. Megatron’s actions were to be the powder keg and all it needed was a spark to light the fuse of this growing unrest. It was only a matter of time before Nominus and the seante encounter growing opposition not just by Megatron, but also those who were not afraid of retaliation, but instead welcomed it.

“Oracle,” he spoke to the book in front of him. The tome shook before opening, the incomprehensible words on its pages, written in a language not seen on Cybertron since time immoral, beginning to glow. “Tell me about this Megatron.”

 


	2. Into the Fire

Chapter 2-Into the Fire

The Proudstar Memorial was a large park near the Stellar Galleries. It was a truly lavish place full of intricately detailed metal flowers crafted by Harmonexian artisans, each flower patch representing the birthplace of the crew members who served aboard the Proudstar, the ship that Nova Prime himself commanded. At the heart of the memorial was a water fountain that held a gold statue of the Proudstar, with a plaque showing the names of the crew that was lost with it after the ship vanished in the Benzuli Expanse.

Orion sat on one of the benches reading the last passage of his volume of Towards Peace. The night was quiet as usual and he got let off his shift early, giving him some free time to himself. It was easy to get lost in these treaties, as Megatron often painted a very descriptive picture of a Cybertron without castes and labels that define individuals. A Cybertron that actually progressed instead of staying in place with no movement forward or backward. So focused was he, that he didn’t notice that someone was trying to get his attention.

“Orion!” Someone yelled at him.

“Huh?” He jumped a bit and looked up to see Elita-1 looking down at him. “Hey Elita. When did you get here?”

“I was here for five minutes, Orion. You were too busy reading to notice.” She answered. Orion scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Elita looked at the data pad he was reading. “What are you reading that’s got you so entranced?”

“Nothing.” He said a bit too quickly. She narrowed her eyes.

“Orion, what are you reading?” She asked sternly, holding her hand out. “Show me.”

“It’s nothing, honest.” Orion tried to put the data pad away, but suddenly found it wrenched out of his hands and into Elita’s grip. Which was strange as he didn’t even see her move.

She read a few lines of the passage before her face scrunched up and she frowned at him. Orion noted how disconcerting it was to have someone like Elita look not angry, but disappointed at you. It wasn’t a good feeling.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading this slag to.” Elita said in a tone that could only be described as scolding.

“What I read is none of your business.” Orion said, snatching the pad from her. “And it’s not trash, just some writings form one of those revolutionaries.”

Elita sat down next to him with a huff. “Don’t try to cover it up. I know that was from Megatron. I come across his writings and speeches all over the DataNet.”

That was no surprise, seeing as the mech was practically preaching the choir all over the badlands. But still, he had no idea why she was so hostile towards Megatron.

“What’s with you?” Orion asked. “You never get so angry about these things. He’s just a mech who is writing to get things to change. He’s harmless.”

“There’s nothing harmless about a gladiator, Orion. Whether he is a poet or not.” Elita replied. Then she sighed. “It’s just…you know about those bombings that have been happening in Praxus and Nova Cromun?”

“Yes, they’re all over the Net.” He said.

“Half of those bombings were caused by people quoting your precious Megatron. They were radicals killing upper caste bots because they were following the example Megatron set for them.” She said. “Rebel against all forms of order and rebel against the seante. You form does not dictate your function in society. They practically rip it right off the pages for Primus’ sake.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I might turn into some gun toting maniac if I read his essays?” Orion asked. Elita didn’t say anything. “Elita…”

“I’m sorry, but people like him are just bad news. They think what they’re doing is good, but all they’re doing is killing people and making things harder for all of us.” She sighed. “I had a Net Pal who died in one of those bombings caused by the Triple M, and the last thing I need in my life is worrying whether the shop next to me if going to explode.”

Orion didn’t say anything. It was best to let her vent. Elita-1 was a kind femme, but she hated radical movements that served no purpose and only caused chaos and death. Triple M (Militant Monoform Movement), the Malware Brigade, the Combatrons, all organizations that did nothing but hurt the people they were supposedly trying to help.

“Elita,” Orion said. “What do you think of the caste system?”

“Huh?” She looked at him puzzled.

“The caste system,” He continued. “Do you like it? Hate it?”

Elita took her time before answering. “I don’t know, Orion. I think it’s a good way to manage the large populace Cybertron has. Despite it being a little crass in some places, I think it’s efficient enough.”

“Yes, but on a personal note, do you think it's morally right? To label someone based on what they turn to?” He pressed on.

“Orion, morals and politics don’t mix well together. That much is obvious.” She replied.

‘But religion and politics do?’ Orion thought.

He could see that he was making her a bit uncomfortable with these questions, which he couldn’t blame her for. Though Iacon was a relatively lax city in terms of enforcing functionist laws, there were other places in Cybertron’s western hemisphere that were stricter in their rules in their rules. The town of Petrex was one such settlement, where you could get jail time just for talking bad about the functionist policy.

But Elita, she was more afraid of retribution from the Functionist council, known as the Legislators. They were the ones in charge of managing the logistics of the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, which enforced the Form and Function policy. They decided where would a bot go based on their alt modes, and how unique a certain alt mode is to place a bot higher up the system. It was no secret that they treated functionism as if it was a religion, and everyone knew how religion made people take drastic action against what they considered to be an insult to them and everything they stood for.

“What’s with all the questions. Orion? I don’t like getting interrogated by my friend.”

“Sorry, I just wanted your opinion on how I society ran. Reading Megatron’s treatise made me think about some things. And I wanted to know how you felt.” He said. “You’re one of the only people I trust to ask, aside from Jazz and Alpha Trion.”

Elita looked at him hard for a moment before smiling and patting his face. “Orion, I understand that you want to know more about Megatron. But please, don’t let your curiosity get the better of you. Just this once, let it go.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with looking into him for now. It’s not like I’m talking to the mech.” Orion said. Elita shook her head.

“No, Orion. These things can escalate into something that not even you can come from unscathed.” Elita told him. She was so earnest about this that Orion felt himself unable to look away from her bright blue eye. “Please. Just let this go. It will only end badly for you.”

XXXXXXXX

Later that evening, Orion stood in Alpha Trion’s office, waiting for the Archivist to finish writing in his large book. If Alpha Trion noticed the barely hidden scowl on Orion’s face, then he didn’t show it. Or maybe he knew not to pry into his personal life, Primus knows it was hectic enough. Setting down his stylus, Alpha Trion looked at the younger mech.

“Megatron didn’t start out planning a revolution. Not on a planet-wide scale in any case.” He began. “He was a member of the manual labor caste, a miner in section D-16 of Tarn’s energon mines. He was cast out of work when the mines were automated by Tarn’s provisional government.”

Orion knew all about that. Miners and workers were losing their jobs to the senate automating the mines and factories for faster operations-and less complaining-so they won’t have to rely on the so-called unreliable nature of the workers themselves. A lot of people were losing their jobs, and when you were put out of work, then you weren’t useful any more.

“He made a name for himself in the gladiator arena in Tarn’s underground.” Alpha Trion continued. “Megatron was a capable warrior, and the fact that he was a victim of the negligence of the senate made him even more popular.”

The sight of two or more cybertronians tearing each other apart is something few would admit enjoying. Yet the Pits in the lower levels of Kaon and Tarn were one of Cybertron’s most popular tourist destinations, and the Grid was alive with transmissions and broadcasts of the various tournaments going on. Arena combat was illegal across Cybertron, but the senate in all its wisdom understood that a population confined by caste needed certain outlets. So they looked the other way while the Pits became entrenched as a diversion for the workers of the lower caste.

Alpha Trion switched on a holodisplay on is desk that showed images and video feeds of the Pits. Images of broken bots and hellish arenas flitted across Orion’s view, he recognized them as gladiators who had succumbed to Kaon’s arena matches. Kaon was famous for its brutality.

Then he looked at one video, which showed Megatron-this was the first time Orion had seen him-standing in one of the crowded streets o Tarn. His form was large and powerful, the physique of a warrior who had been through hell and is still trying to climb out. But as his silver form stood out over the assembled listeners, he was preaching the ideals of free will and individualism.

“As his reputation grew, Megatron began releasing a series of essays. _Towards Peace_ titled it. In them he began listing the flaws of the caste system and arguing the morals of utility against indivisualism. Openly calling both the senate and Legislators tyrants who ruled through lies and governed by fear.” Alpha Trion focused the image of Megatron. “As you already know, his words have touched the hearts and minds of many lower caste bots. He is a kindred spirit speaking for the masses.”

“So, he is leading a revolution.”

“Not leading, exactly. Megatron hasn’t shown an interest in leading a revolt against the senate, rather he spends most of his efforts in trying to encourage others to rise up for themselves. He believes that without a leader to hold their hand, the enlightened populace will become more self sufficient.”

“That’s not how the senate will see this.” Orion muttered. That is, if they can find it in themselves to care.

“We live in a certain world, Orion.” Alpha Trion said. “Few of us imagine what it might be like to live in another. But some of us…some of us remember what other worlds were like once. And some of us are foolish enough to wish that we might live in such a world again.”

Alpha Trion looked down at his tome and tapped his stylus on his desk. It was a few more minutes before he spoke again.

“Go home, Orion. Think on what I have said.”

“I will.”

With that said, Orion left the room, leaving the Archivist alone once more. He looked down at his tome-the Oracle-then at the still image of Megatron.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t interested in Megatron himself. A revolutionary, preaching the unspoken words of the people, who seeks to make Cybertron into the world it was meant to be. To bring back the Cybertron of the Golden Age before it was divided by castes and mode functions. To return their race to its former glory.

Alpha Trion took his stylus and began writing in the Oracle once more. He would wait and record the events that transpire. Things have been set in motion and it all revolves around the mech named Megatron-he who shares his name with the Prime known as the Fallen.

XXXXXXXXX

Orion Pax walked down the street towards Nominus square. The large community area was full of people just getting out of work for the evening and had a large statue of Nominus Prime in the center. He walked with no real destination in mind. He was still thinking about Aplha Trion’s words.

_‘Some of us are foolish enough to wish that we might live in such a world again…’_

Did Alpha Trion think what Megatron was doing a foolish endeavor? Or did he condemn Megatron for trying to return to an age that has been long since lost to modern cybertronians? Orion did not understand…or he tried not to understand. The only way to really understand the Archivist’s words would be to think-if it was even safe to do-beyond caste.

To imagine a time when Cybertron was not so rigidly divided.

To think back to a time when Cybertron was at the very top of its own universe.

To think of a future where Cybertron was restored to its former greatness.

Was Megatron’s goal? To encourage a regression back to when Cybertron was a world where one’s actions determined their place in life?

Orion pondered that idea, but was taken back to the present when he heard a small ticking sound coming from Nominus Prime’s statue. He thought nothing of it, but then stopped in his tracks.

“Wait…”

He turned towards the statue, and increased the volume on his audio sensors. There was a ticking coming from the statue! And the first thing that came to his mind was a-

BOOM!

Orion was sent flying back through the air when the large gold statue exploded, destroying it and anyone unfortunate enough to be standing close to it. He crashed into a lamp post and knocked it over as he crumpled to the ground. All around him, people were screaming and crying. The explosion rattled his circuits and damn near deafened his audio receptors.

He gathered his wits and switched on his comm. “This is Orion Pax! I need all units to get to Nominus Square now!” He shuted. “Someone just bombed the place, and we need a medical team here ASAP!”

He stood up and was about to help the injured pedestrians when he noticed a bot standing near the blast zone. She was short, probably standing around his waist, with grey armor and feline components on her body. A beast former. But what caught his attention was the remote she was clutching in her hand. Orion wasn’t one to go on assumptions on the fly, but when you see a bot holding a remote at the scene of a bombing, you get that feeling in your spark that just won’t go away.

XXXXXXX

Shadowkat looked around at the chaos she had caused. She stared emotionlessly at the deep crater the explosion had left in the ground, and then turned to the wounded bots screaming and crying around her. Some were still conscious but missing limbs and leaking energon, others were still-there was no doubt that they were dead.

‘It’s all for the cause.’ She thought over and over again. The mantra was the only thing that was keeping her from breaking down from what she had done. This was her first time doing such a thing! There was no way she could wuss out now!

“Hey! You over there!”

Shadowkat froze and looked to her left to see a red and blue mech marching towards her. Aside from the scorched armor, he was in one piece and was not happy at all. When she saw the holo-badge in his palm, she knew that she’d been had.

“I need to ask you some quest-“

She ran before he could finish the sentence. Shadowkat could hear him yelling for her to stop, but she didn’t listen. All she did was pump her powerful legs to go as fast as possible and prayed that she did not get caught.

Orion cursed and transformed, driving after her. Swerving to avoid hitting any bots in is path, he chased her into an alleyway that was in between two office buildings. Orion transformed and jumped forward, slamming his shoulder into her back and sent her crashing to the ground. He stood over her, blaster pointed at her.

“You’re under arrest for suspicion of terrorism.” He said. “If you come quietly, then nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.”

“Go to hell!” Shadowkat hissed and lunged at Orion.

She came at him with such speed that he was unprepared for her attack. She kicked the gun out of his hand and landed another blow to his head. He stumbled to the side, but then he pulled one of the smokestacks off his back and it shifted into a large energon battle axe.

“The hard way it is then.” He muttered.

Orion spun the axe around his body and hit her in the abdomen before following up with a kick to her chest. He swung his axe to land a shallow cut on her-not enough to kill, but seriously impair her movement. But to his surprise, his axe blade did not hit metal. Instead it passed through her body like she was some kind of hologram.

Shadowkat let the axe pass through her before coming at Orion with another series of kicks that were like strong punches to the mech. Orion endured the assault, then ducked down under a spin kick and tried to knock her legs from under her. Just like before, his leg phased through her body without resistance. She responded with a kick to his face that sent him into the wall.

“You’re not taking me!” Shadowkat shouted. “No one is taking me in again! Do you hear me?”

“You don’t have to shout.” Orion grunted.

Shadowkat hissed with bared teeth and ran at him to beat him senseless, but Orion kicked a pipe at her face. Not expecting it, Shadowkat was knocked off balance as the pipe hit her in the face. He used this moment to rush forward and land a punch at her face. She doubled over and he slammed his elbow into the back of her head, bringing her to the ground. Acting fast, he took out an energo-baton and jammed it into her back. Shadowkat screamed as she was jolted before she went still. She was still online, but not coherent enough to pull another phasing trick.

“Now are you going to behave now?” Orion asked. She said nothing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You slaghead!”

Orion looked up just in time to see a huge black fist slam into his face. Pain exploded in his head as he crashed into a dumpster, denting the metal. Standing over Shadowkat was another femme. She was mostly black, with pulse cannons on her forearms and a metal plate covering one of her yellow eyes. She was tall and bulky with broad shoulders and insectoid wings on her back.

Blackbeetle glared down at the mech that hurt her lover and stomped forward till she was standing over him. “What’s the matter, mech? Don’t you have anything witty to say?”

“Nothing that I can say in front of the little lady over there.” Orion replied. He needed to keep his mouth shut.

Blackbeetle growled and reached down. She effortlessly picked him up and threw him with such force that he flew the entire distance of the alley and out into the street, crashing into a cargo trailer. She transformed into a giant black beetle with large pincer claws, and picked up the still recovering Shadowkat. She flew out of the alley and hovered over Orion’s broken body.

“Let this be a message to the tyrannical Prime and his slaves!” She shouted for all those present to hear. “The senate’s days are numbered. A new world will be born from the wishes of MEGATRON! Down with the Prime! Down with the senate! And down with functionism!”

Blackbeetle flew off into the sky at speeds that the hoverbikes would not be able to catch. Not that they could since the two femmes will be long gone before the police arrive.

Orion pushed his body out of the trailer before falling to the ground. He felt like he took a punch from Ultra Magnus hopped up in Engex. When he felt his vision going dark, his last thoughts were that things were going to get really noisy around Iacon. Then he went into stasis.

This was only the beginning.

XXXXXXXXX

Miles outside of Iacon’s city limits, Blackbeetle and Shadowkat phased through the ground to the surface. They had traveled through the city’s sewer system to reach the edge of the city before ShadowKat used her powers to phase them through solid metal underground until they were far enough from Iacon. Both femmes were tired, but still in one piece.

“We’ve made it.” Blackbeetle smiled and looked up at the sun. “Free at last. Are you okay, Kat?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” Shadowkat said softly.

Blackbeetle looked at her conjux puzzled. “What’s wrong? You’ve done it! You’ve proven yourself!”

“All those people.” Shadowkat muttered. She looked at Blackbeetle with clear optics. “I knew that people were going to die, but…actually seeing them on the ground…screaming…”

Blackbeetle hugged Shadowkat. “I know it’s hard, sweetspark, but you’ve got to stay strong. Remember that we are doing this for our brothers and sisters back home.”

“I know, but…” Shadowkat trailed off as she looked up at the sky. Blackbeetle pulled away and followed her gaze into the darkening sky.

A barely visible back shape flew towards them. when it got closer, they saw that it was a large black bird-a raven-with ruby red eyes and armor as black as night. It flew in close to them, then it transformed into a slender femme. She looked down at the two femmes with a stern expression and them her purple pained lips turned up in a smile.

“Well done my friends. You two made it out without even fighting the police force.” She said in a cool tone. “Impressive.” She looked at Shadowkat. “How are you doing, Shadowkat? That cop certainly was more than a match for you.”

“I am fine, my lady.” Shadowkat said. The femme before her was very intimidating. Even her usually abrasive lover was silent in her presence.

“Please, call me Nightshade. We are all equal in our fight against the tyrants of our society.” Nightshade flared her black wings out and looked into the distance. “Come. We have a world to save.”


	3. Megatron

Chapter 3-Megatron

The gladiator Pits of Tarn was dark, much like the rest of the city. The Acropolis Arena is one of many that reside within the depths of Tarn, one giant hole in the ground, rectangular and two hundred meters on its short sides and half that distance on its long sides. The ground was made of ore pebbles crushed and discarded from the foundries because the metals were too low in concentration. The grounds itself were littered with trash and mechanical debris to make the area more suitable for tactical ambushes and blind sides attacks.

Surrounding the floor were four levels of seating that rose a hundred mechanos overhead, banks of lights in every frequency from infrared to ultraviolet drenched the floor in merciless light the stands were jammed with workers from the factories and refineries of Tarn, stomping their feet in rhythm until the entire balconies of each level bounced up and down to nearly the limits of the metal frame’s tensile strength. The noise was overwhelming, and it would only get worse as the arena match began.

This sight was nothing new for the gladiator known as Megatron. He had been in either this area not others like it hundreds of times and they all blur together after a while. This tournament circuit had rules that were meant to place his opponents at an advantage. They could enter the ring first and prepare with the assembled weapons that given to them or assume their alt modes and take tactical positions. He did not know who he was up against nor what their capabilities were. And in a way, it made things more fun.

When he heard the announcer call his name, he took a deep breath of the thick, smoky air and walked out into the arena. As soon as his large, silver form came into view, the crowd cheered his name, and he felt a smile spread across his face. Not too long ago, he was just another warrior in the arena, indistinguishable from the others who either joined willingly or were forced into it by forces outside their control. But now his name was known throughout the Badlands, from Tarn to Stryx, Megatron-he who shares his name with the Fallen. It would be the first time he was known to the world, and it will not be the last.

He walked into the arena, which was full of discarded parts from the losers of previous matches, all strewn about the place. These parts would be collected later for reconstruction, for nothing went to waste in Tarn. Seeing the smoking craters and scorch marks on the walls, Megatron realized that his opponent lacked any sense of subtlety.

“Hey boys! Looks like we got more scrap for the pile!”

Megatron didn’t move as three beasts stepped into view from behind the scrap piles. They looked like the mechanimals from the wilderness, but Megatron could tell that they were in fact beast-formers, and ugly ones at that.

The first was a dark grey two headed dragon standing on two thin legs. The second was an ugly draconian beast with a short snout and, stubby arms and short but strong legs. The last member of the group was a fiery red insectoid monster with large mandibles on the side of its wide mouth and huge green eyes.

Megatron heard about these mechs. They were the Monsterbots; Doublecross, Grotesque and Repugnus. They were infamous among Tarn’s population as being bounty hunters as savage as their beast modes. No one liked them, and they liked no one but themselves. Megatron seldom enjoyed fighting beast-formers as they were often the bots most affected by the caste system, but for these guys he’ll make an exception.

“So you’re the mech with the fancy writing whose been getting so much attention around here.” Doubelcross growled, his two heads talking in synch. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

“I’ve read your cute little scribbles, they’re a joke. Get the slag out of our turf!” Repugnus yelled. “We don’t need no fancy writer prancing around our home.”

“I’m surprised you can even read.” Megatron said. When fighting enemies who use brute strength above logical reasoning, getting them angry was the way to go. “If you want me gone, you’re going to have to throw me out yourself.”

Grotesque stalked forward, standing face to face with Megatron. His beast mode was a head taller than him, and they glared at each other, eye to eye. Blue optics to red.

“You must have a death wish, Megs. You should’ve thought twice before trapping yourself in here with us.” He hissed.

“Oh that’s where you’re wrong.” Megatron smirked. “I’m not trapped in here with you.” He brought out his wrist blade. “You’re trapped in here with me.”

Moving too fast for Grotesque to follow, Megatron stabbed his sword into the mech’s stomach and sliced upwards. The blade easily cut through circuitry and metal plating, gutting Grotesque before slicing both his spark and brain casing in two, killing him instantly. The crowd went ballistic at the brutal and unexpected move from their champion.

“You bastard!” Repugnus roared.

He charged at Megatron and slashed at him with his large claws, leaving a large gash on his chest plate that was only a few inches deep. Megatron made a note to stay clear of those claws. He ducked under twin streams of fire shot at him from behind, courtesy of Doublecross. Spinning around, he transformed into his vehicle mode, a heavily armored utility tank, and drove at the two-headed dragon at full speed.

Doublecross grunted as he was hit with enough force to rival a hit from a Primal Vanguard bruiser, who proceeded to slam him into the wall of the arena, electing more thunderous cries from the crowd. Both mechs transformed to robot mode, and Megatron tried to keep the now humanoid Doublecross from crushing his skull with his hands, which were his dragon heads in beast mode. Repugnus used this chance to charge at them from behind.

Sensing the other Monsterbot coming at him from behind, Megatron gritted his teeth and used his strength to tear off one of Doublecross’s arms, turning around to slam the torn limb into Repugnus’s head, knocking him into the ground. He then felt searing heat wash over the left side of his face and shoulder as flames spewed from Doublecross’s other arm. The attack forced Megatron back a bit and the flames washed over his left arm. Megatron ignored the burning pain punched Doublecross in the face repeatedly, not letting up even as the mech continued to bath him in fire. Then the flames died down into a trickle as Megatron’s punches caused severe damage to Doublecross’s head, caving in his skull and crushing his brain module. It was a slow death for him.

When Megatron reared his arm back for a final blow to end his victim’s suffering, he found his arm trapped in the crushing grip of a pincer claw. Repugnus pulled his arm back and lifted Megatron into the air before slamming him into the ground. He then threw Megatron into a metal spire that was jutting up from the ground, digging his back into the sharp metal shards.

Megatron dug his feet into the ground and grabbed a nearby weapon from near his foot-a mace. He then slammed the blunt weapon into the arm that was holding his limb, breaking the arm at the elbow. Repugnus retaliated by rushing forward and grabbing Megatron around the waist with his large mandibles, squeezing him tightly. Megatron grunted as he felt his armor groaning under the increasing pressure from the Monsterbot’s mandibles and knew that he had get free soon.

He lifted the mace and slammed it down on one of the mandibles, forming a crack. He hit it again and it snapped off. With only one mandible holding him now, Megatron kicked Repugnus away and landed on his feet. Now he was free-and mad.

Repugnus transformed and fell on his back, no longer having the earlier bravado that he threw around. Seeing the seething Megatron advancing upon him put the fear of god into him, and he scrambled back.

“W-wait, wait! I concede! Please don-“

Megatron stabbed the broken mandible into Repugnus’s head and didn’t stop until his entire upper body was impaled on the sharp weapon, from his head to his waist. Megatron let the body drop and stepped back. All around him, the adulation rained down on him like energon, like life itself. Even now, through the pain engulfing half his body, Megatron could still hear them chanting his name.

“MEGATRON! MEGATRON! MEGATRON!”

He strode victoriously out of the arena and into the entrance tunnel. He tried to ignore the pain that was catching up to him as he walked deeper into the complex of abandoned maintenance tunnels below the factory district. They were used for the transportation of goods without suffering the hassle of trying to navigate the heavy traffic on the surface. Now most of the subterranean space was used for the highly illegal but profitable gladiator tournaments.

He made his way into the underground area that was reserved for the gladiators and the other bots who were associated to the Pits at some level. Here people like him lived, trained and were repaired here. The ones who died were used as resources to better the lives of others. It was a preferable fate than having your corpse rust for the Scraplets to feast on.

“Megatron!” Knockout, his personal physician, exclaimed flamboyantly as Megatron entered the medical bay where the warriors go their wounds repaired. “I just saw your match. You were glorious out there.”

“Happy to meet your needs for visual perfection, Knockout.” Megatron said dryly.

Knockout was a strange mech. Megatron bailed him out of a debt with the local mob before they were wiped out, and Knockout offered his services to Megatron as thanks. Knockout was forged in Harmonex, a city known for its artistic talents, somewhere down the line Knockout was blacklisted for murder because he enjoyed taking bots apart as much as he did putting them together. He went on the run, lived in Stryx where he started a short lived career as a drag racer before running to Tarn where he worked as a doctor for the gladiators. Yeah, he got around a lot.

Knockout led Megatron to a berth and sat him down before checking him over. A damaged left arm with severe metal burns, ruptured power lines along his waist, and a slight dented right arm leaking energon. All in all, it was a good day. Better than that time he lost an arm to that stupidly strong Minicon.

“Megatron?”

Megatron and Knockout looked towards the entrance and they both smiled, though for different reasons.

“Elmeth.” The minute he said that name, all his aches and pains seemed to lessen.

Elmeth was one of the few bots who had the privilege of being Megatron’s friend. She was a dainty femme, snow white, with a slender frame. Her legs were like the hind legs of a pneuma lion standing upright, and her small hands were sported three-fingered claws. Her face was smooth and polished with ruby red eyes that displayed an alarming clarity. All around her, the medical staff and even some of the gladiators present offered her their own greetings as she walked past them, and she returned them in kind.

“Good evening, dear Elmeth.” Knockout strutted up to her and took her hand I his. “You’re looking radiant as always.”

Megatron rolled his eyes as Elmeth giggled. “Thank you, Knockout.” She said.

“Did you forget that you have a wounded patient here, doctor?” Megatron said loudly. Knockout sent a dull glare his way but returned to his job all the same.

“Be nice, Megatron. Knockout is not that bad.” She said.

“Right, and I’m Nova Prime.” Megatron quipped. “How did the session go?”

“It went well. A lot of people are interested to see what else you’ll say. You’ve got a lot of followers all over the Badlands, but mostly in Kaon and Tarn.” Elmeth told him. “Though, that bombing in Iacon has gotten everyone on edge. Some bots think that you might bring the heat down on them if they support you.”

“I’m not forcing them to rebel, Elemth. I’m trying to open their eyes to how backwards this world has become. If they don’t like me fine,” He shrugged. “At least have them listen to what I have to say.”

“Though we could do without terrorist chanting your name before they level a city block.” Knockout noted.

“Yes, that is a problem.” Megatron frowned. The last thing he needed was people thinking he had a connection to the bombings that have been going on. Once that rumor catches fire, it’ll spread and potentially start something that will only get worse as time goes on. “At least I’m getting attention. Despite the bad publicity.”

“Yes,” Elmeth frowned. “Lots of attention.”

‘And not necessarily the good kind.’ She thought.

Megatron noticed her unease and motioned her to move closer. She always felt more comfortable around him. “Elmeth, what’s wrong?”

“Megatron, this is not good for us. We can’t have people destroying landmarks in your name. It’ll only look bad for you.” She said. “And the senate…”

“Won’t do anything about it. A few bombings is beneath their concern.” Megatron said bitterly. Like the senate would care about the deaths of a few common bots.

“I’m just saying, you know how ruthless they can be. You’ve heard the stories about the things they do.”

“I can’t just back out when things get scary. I have an obligation to our brothers and sisters in the lower castes.” He said. “The poor and homeless. The mechs and femmes treated like dirt because they don’t change into something useful. Bots like you.”

Knockout stood to the side watching the unexpectedly tense exchange. This was better than most dramas on the Net.

“I know,” Elmeth muttered. “I just want you to at least try to be careful. The senate is unpredictable, as are the Legislators. You can’t take them on all alone.”

“Which is why I must do this. So that the people of Cybertron stand together and face the senate head on as a unified force. The senate may ignore this now, but if enough people rise up and demand change, then the situation will be too big for the senate to ignore. That’s why they’re going to such great lengths to curb us. Divided we are weak. United we are as strong as any government official or Prime.”

“Till all are one.” Elmeth said. Megatron smiled and nodded.

“Yes.”

Elmeth wanted to be strong for Megatron, to be there as that helping hand that no one offered to him, despite everything he had done for their independence. But she was so scared. As a beast-former, she was born with a target on her back. Those who changed into animals were considered freaks, labeled as useless wastes of space that have no place in the so-called “perfect” Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy. Much of Cybertro’s beast population lived in the wilderness or in the underground, trying to survive and getting caught up in criminal activities to make a living. Of course, not all of them were victims, some were bad to the core, but it didn’t help the general image of them as savages who lie and cheat.

But she would not falter. She would be strong for Megatron. She was fighting for people like her who were born into a harsh world of stasis that refuses to change even as the universe passes them by.

Megatron got off the berth and stood in front of her. “I need you to be there for me, Elmeth. We outcasts must stand together. Are you with me?”

Elmeth’s red lips spread into a smile and she took his large hands in her smaller ones.

“Always.”

XXXXXXXXX

Nightshade stood on top of a cliff overlooking the silver plated landscape of Tesarus. She had been there since dawn, waiting for her prey to come. At ground level Blackbeetle was hidden amongst the rocks in beast mode, waiting for her signal. When the sun began to peak over the horizon, she turned to her companion.

“Soundwave,” She said. “Can you hear them?”

The blue and white mech standing at her side nodded. He stood a head taller than her, with no facial features save for his red visor and silver mouthplate. Mounted behind his head was a satellite dish, and his shoulders and legs sported heavy duty treads that were from his alt mode.

“I can hear them,” Soundwave said in a robotic-for a cybertronian-voice. “Two caravans, each holding six soldiers. All Legislators.”

“Good.” Nightshade said, eyes narrowing.

In the distance, she could see two armored trucks driving through the wilderness. When they passed between the two spiral formations, she drew her twin swords from her waist and plugged them together at the hilts. A string connected the tips of the blades and suddenly she was holding onto a bow. Beside her, Soundwave transformed into his alt mode-an all terrain surveillance vehicle. His job was also important, scramble enemy communications so they can’t call for help.

Nightshade pulled the string on her bow back and a pointed bolt of energy materialized in the bow. She aimed it to the sky and fired the arrow, sending it into the sky faster than any Seeker could fly. That was the signal.

As soon as the convoys got close enough, Blackbeetle flew out from her hiding place and ascended into the air where she proceeded to fire three rockets from the antenna on her beast mode’s head. The rockets hit the ground around the convoys, causing them to swerve to avoid getting blown to pieces. Of course the transports were able to take anything up to a plasma charge, but the drivers avoided the rockets out of reflex, and they went spiraling out of control.

One convoy tipped over, while the other skidded to a stop and the back hatch opened for the six soldiers-the Legislator’s private militia, the Enforcers-, all carrying heavy weapons, flooded out the vehicle and opened fire on Blackbeetle. She weaved through the air, firing rockets at them while taking the projectile and blaster fire head on with little damage to her thick armor. When she saw the other six start the climb out the other convoy that was when Nightshade entered the battle.

She jumped off the cliff and transformed to beast mode. Swooping down upon the second batch of Enforcers, the feathers on her wings opened up and fired six small but lethal missile darts at targets she designated with her beast mode’s laser guided vision. The poor soldiers didn’t notice the assault until it was too late. The missile darts exploded all over the place, some hitting the ground or being shot out of the sky, but most hit their targets. Five of the six Enforcers had their heads and torsos blown to pieces as the armor piercing darts killed them on impact.

Nightshade switched to robot mode and landed in front of the last soldier. The mech scrambled back and tried to fire his plasma cannon, but she quickly got past his guard and took his head off with one swing of her sword.

Shadowkat sprung from the ground in the middle of the six remaining soldiers, catching them off guard.

“Where did she come from?”

“Shoot her?”

They opened fire, but their blaster bolts phased through her and hit each other instead. She turned solid and grabbed one of the uninjured mechs, phasing him through the ground and stopping when only his head remained. Then she made him solid and he didn’t have a chance to scream as his head was separated from his body.

Blackbeetle landed on the ground and transformed, slamming her fist into the nearest Enforcer, taking his head clean off in a single punch. The other Enforcer fired his cannon and caught her in the shoulder, but Shadowkat phased her hands through her body and snatched the cannon from his hands. Then she grabbed his shoulders and phased him through the ground up to his knees, severing his legs. Before he could move, Blackbeetle leaned down and brutally tore his arms off in a shower of sparks. Within minutes, the last Enforcer was nothing but a torso on the ground, at the mercy of these terrorists.

“I’ll never tell you anything, freaks!” He growled. “So you better kill me now!”

“We won’t kill you. Not yet.” Nightshade walked up to him in her slow, predatory gait. “And we don’t need you to talk either. Soundwave.”

Soundwave slid down the cliff and walked towards them. He approached the crippled Enforcer silently and knelt down, grabbing his head. The Enforcer was about to demand what they were doing, when he felt something probe into his mind.

Soundwave was a secret Outlier, one whose hearing was so acute that he could even monitor the electrical impulses of nearby minds, granting him close range telepathy. It was a power that he rarely used since Ravage and Lazerbeak helped him master it, but being with Nightshade taught him that he could use it for himself if used the right way. Like learning the secrets of an Enforcer.

After waiting a while, Nightshade asked him if the mech knew what they wanted. Soundwave looked up at her and said, “I have all that we need. He is of no use to us now.”

“Thank you, Soundwave.” She looked down at the disoriented Enforcer. “And thank you for your contribution will help us in liberating the people of Cybertron. Your reward…a quick death.”

Nightshade leveled her bow at the Enforcer and pulled the string back. Shadowkat forced herself not to look away as Nightshade fired an arrow at the mech’s head, killing him instantly.

“So now that we got that job done,” Blackbeetle said, placing an arm around Shadowkat’s shoulders. “Mind telling us what info we just got from him?”

“In due time, Blackbeetle. There are some other things I need to do before I let you two in on the secret.” Nightshade said cryptically. “But I will tell you this-it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”


	4. Starcrossed

Chapter 4-Starcrossed

_‘On whose authority do they categorize us like common drones?’_

Orion Pax sat at the Lars Pavilion overlooking the city by the Decagon. It was night, and he was stargazing on one of the benches. His mind was a thousand miles away, thinking back to the recent events that transpired.

The bombing at Nominus Square was breaking news, and the attack put everyone on edge; everyone save the senate. They were outraged at the attack, but it was more on the grounds that they were insulted that some terrorist had the bearings to bomb their city instead of being angered at the loss of life that resulted from the attack. Their pride was hurt, and that was all that mattered to them. They went through the same song and dance about how the criminals will be brought to justice-no different from what the governors from the other city-states said time and time again in the wake of a bombing.

The trail had gone cold no later than a day after the attack.

Orion, after recovering in the hospital, had given a detailed description of the femme who did it-an outlier who could phase her body through solid objects, aided by a large beast former who was probably her conjux endura. But nothing he did was any help, as they were already gone from the city thanks to the outlier’s powers. As it is, he was still reeling from the bombing itself.

_‘Down with the corrupt senate! Down with the Prime!’_

He knew that there were people who hated the senate, people who were mostly from the lower ‘disposable’ castes. But to see such hatred first hand, and to have it directed at him, was a bit min numbing. He figured that these people finally had enough of being treated like dirt and lashed out. There was only so much a bot can take before they snap.

‘ _Freedom is every cybertronian’s right!’_

Freedom. Freedom to do what exactly? Orion remembered, during his information sessions after maturing from a protoform, being taught that freedom consisted of being free to contribute to the tasks that were appropriate and necessary to the caste you were born into. Unlimited choice, rather than leading to freedom, led to the paralysis of confusion.

Those were the teachings of…who exactly? Nominus Prime had never said it out loud, but he was one of the bots who instigated the rise of functionism-along with much of the Legislators in fact. He preached the core belief of the functionist sect that individuality threatens to tear apart cybertronian civilization and only by acting as contributing parts to a single machine-Cybertron-can society flourish.

_‘They say they are doing this for the benefit of all, but who does the caste system benefit? The higher castes! Those who use us to stabilize their rule at the top!’_

The outlier and her spouse were beast formers. Of course they would rebel against the higher authority. Bots like them didn’t fit in the divine system of the government, they were mutants. Abominations. Those who transformed into animals were animals themselves, and should be treated as such. Orion recalled how Elita-1 had witnessed a beast-former, one of her neighbors in fact, get beaten to death by two Elite Guard soldiers. It had haunted her for a long time before Alpha Trion talked to her about it.

Now that he was thinking-as in really thinking-and not just absentmindedly pondering-about the caste system, he realized just how brutal it was. He heard stories and reports about incidents involving shapism, but seeing it was another thing all together. He was just like everyone else in his caste, he didn’t care about events that happened far off in some distant city that he was never going to visit in his lifetime.

_‘Who are they to decide what it beast for me? As an individual, no one knows but me what I want. Who but you knows what is best for you?’_

Sentient beings banded together and made decisions for the collective good. Not all of those decisions would benefit every individual. But not all societies would alienate a group of people because they weren’t useful anymore.

Orion groaned and ran his hands over his face. What the hell was he supposed to think or feel anymore?

‘What I need,’ He thought. ‘Is to have a conversation with someone other than myself.’

XXXXXXX

So Orion had tracked down an old friend of his-Jazz. He was a silver mech with a clear blue visor instead of separate optical shutters who took life as easy as possible and had a sense of humor that mostly surrounded Orion’s lack of such. Once they met up, they went to have a drink at McAddam’s Oil House.

“Well you certainly have a dilemma.” Jazz noted. “You know what you should do? Go to Tarn and see a gladiator match.”

“Are you serious? That’s illegal. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to even see one. I have a perfect record to maintain, Jazz. You’re not doing me any favors.”

Jazz grinned. “Doesn’t stop the senate from sneaking a peek at a few matched though.” He drained his can of Visco and waved the bartender for another. “Look, if we get in trouble, then I can say it’s for cultural investigation.”

“And how will you explain my being there?”

“You could be my bodyguard.”

“Jazz, student of Yoketron, needing a bodyguard, please.” Orion chuckled.

But it was a sound idea in theory. Orion had met Jazz because he was a cultural investigator, charged with mingling with the populace and learning about the different aspects of modern cybertronian life, researching and making sense of the rabble that made up the common bot from all walks of life. It was by chance that they met while Pax was on a case and Jazz offered his services to help the fabled “Supercop”. Their castes were on the same level, but Jazz’s job granted him more freedom, enough that Jazz could get away with things Orion would never dream of doing. He was a risking taker, taking risks than what was necessary.

Orion drank his glass of Estriol. “Besides, Tarn is on the other side of the planet. I’ve never been past Nova Cronum.”

That realization made him feel a bit wistful. There was so much of Cybertron he had not seen, and he was friends with bots who had seen much more than he had. The most he had seen of distant places was when he viewed the transmissions with Elita-1 in the Hall of Records.

Jazz shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion. Wanted to find a way to set you mind at ease by meeting this Megatron-if that’s his real name. Why are you so fascinated with him anyway?”

“It’s not Megatron himself, well yeah it kind of is, but it’s also how he views the world. We all have seen the caste system as something that is necessary or just some system that isn’t interesting enough to garner our attention so long as it doesn’t interfere with our lives. But Megatron, he’s not like those nut jobs on the street corner. He’s asking the right questions that make people think, and when they start putting pieces together, it all begins to make sense.”

“Wow,” Jazz gaped. “He really has you hooked.”

Orion didn’t deny that. Every time he read more about Megatron, or his writings, something lit up deep inside him. It was as if Megatron’s fight for individualism resonated with feelings Orion never knew he had. The fact the-despite social standings-they were born the same way and like all things in life, die as well.

This revelation sparked a kinship with Megatron and the rest of the miners and forgers across the planet. They were all beings born the same way from the heart of Cybertron. Were they so different?

He mentioned this to Jazz, who gave a light hearted-if not a little mocking-laughed.

“Yes, Orion. You’re different. You don’t have to worry about dying every time you wake up in the morning. You don’t have to fight for your life. And if you do die on the job, people will actually care and your body won’t be thrown into a smelting pool and used as raw materials.”

Orion stared at his friend in shock before sipping his drink. “You aren’t pulling any punches.” He noted.

“Those who are fortunate should know how fortunate they are.” Jazz said, quoting his master.

The two mechs sat in silence, drinking their energon as the silver mech waited for his police friend to get his thoughts in order.

“I wonder if I can get in contact with him.” Orion said. The estriol he drank filled his body with an invigorating feeling of confidence that wasn’t just his usual forced bravado.

“With who? Megatron?” Jazz asked. “Possibly, though I’d be careful. Even the tamest predator is still a predator.”

“You don’t find him interesting?”

“Orion, I find everything interesting. It’s the whole point of my job.” He chuckled. “Look, if you really want to go to Tarn, then I can hook you up with some travel passes and say you’re along as my bodyguard. Want me to talk to you chief?”

Orion considered the idea. “Maybe. If nothing else, I just want to see him in person.”

“Careful, bro. investigation is for bots I mechaforensics and privates. Don’t step outside the boundaries of your caste my friend.”

“How can I not?” Orion finished the rest of his drink and gave his friend a hard stare. “I have a mind, I can think, and analyze.”

Jazz waited for Orion to calm down before responding. “If you say so.”

“Easy for you to joke, you can do whatever you want. I’m a police officer, I have to set an example.” Orion replied, leaning forward. His voice was low but his words were harsh. “Where does it say that I have to stay an officer? Was it foretold by the Matrix? Or written in some damn ledger that the Primes keep on whose authority do they measure my worth as a living being with how useful my alt mode is to them? Or gave them the right to beat up innocent people because they change into a bird instead of a plane?”

He trusted Jazz implicitly and would say things to him that he would never say to anyone else. And so, the words just spilled out of his mouth in a burst of passion and frustration.

“You sound like your gladiator friend.” Jazz pointed out.

“He’s not my friend.” Orion said. “But maybe it’s time I talked to him.”

XXXXXXXXX

“I don’t know how you talked me into this.” Elita-1 said sternly as she and Orion stood in the privacy of her workstation. “This is incredibly risky.”

“I know, Elita.” Orion said.

It was a risky and highly dangerous plan, one that could give them both a life sentence if they’re caught. He didn’t like putting her in such danger, but Elita was the only one he trusted who had intimate knowledge of how the Grid worked. She knew how to get a transmission across the Grid without anyone but the intended recipient knowing about it.

Orion knew that he owed Elita a lot for going to great lengths to help him out. They were doing this in the late hours of the night, when most of the other data clerks were out, save for a few caretakers on the upper floors. As far as they were concerned, she was doing a late shift, not sending a secret message to Megatron.

Orion didn’t know what to say. How do you start a conversation with a mech who is the hero of a caste that loathes people like him? The question plagued his thoughts the entire drive to the Hall. After a few minutes, he decided to give something simple.

‘ _What you say is interesting, but more people are hearing than you realize. Let’s speak.’_

Elita attached the contact information to it and masked it with a bit of dead end storage data, and sent it off.

“It’s done.” She said. Orion nodded. Elita looked at her dearest friend with stern eyes. “Are you really going through with this? What you’re doing is liable to get you imprisoned or worse.”

“I’m ready.” Orion Pax said. He never felt so sure about anything in his life.

And so the first seed was planted.

XXXXXXX

“Megatron, you’ve got a message!”

Megatron was sharpening his sword when Elmeth came running into his quarters with a data pad in hand.

“A message? From who?” He asked.

“A mech named Orion Pax. He sent it through an encrypted channel from Iacon.” She told him.

Megatron narrowed his eyes and took the data pad from her. Together, they read the short and cryptic message, both wearing looks of surprise and caution.

What did this mean for them? Did this mean that someone in Iacon was sympathetic to their cause, or was it some trick to get them to lower their guard? There were too many possibilities to consider, and Megatron knew that his response could make or break everything they fought for.

“Megatron,” Elmeth said softly. “What are you going to do?”

Megatron looked at her and then down at the message. After a few minutes of thinking, he made his decision.

XXXXXXXXXX

OP: _In my caste, I work to save and protect lives as well as apprehend criminals. But I am forbidden to investigate._

M: _How can you hope to stop crime without knowing the cause of it?_

OP: _I try not to ask myself questions that don’t have answers I can do anything about._

M: _Who has told you that you can’t do anything about the answers? I never even had a home. I went out to fight for the pleasure of strangers. Now I am fighting for the cybertronians who seem to be fine with living under a lie._

OP: _Fight who?_

M: _Those who would tell me, like they tell you, that we do not have a right to determine our fates. Interesting that even in Iacon my words are being heard._

OP: _Not by choice, but by coincidence. However, I was intrigued by your rhetoric and made an effort to speak to you._

M: _A great many cybertonians would love to have Iacon as their home. Yet you are there and still unsatisfied. What does that tell you?_

OP: _We should meet._

M: _Should we? Why would I meet you?_

OP: _Iwish to learn more about the mech you are, and you wish to spread you message to those of the castes beyond the smelters and miners._

M: _Or the rest of Cybertron should learn to understand those castes. Even you do not and you consider yourself one of us._

OP: _Then show me what I do not understand._

XXXXXXXX

Alpha Trion closed his eyes. It was beginning. The Covenant had foreseen it and now he was beginning to see the clear outlines of it. A chance meeting between two fleeting souls would change the future of Cybertron forever. He looked down at the book lying on top of his desk.

Symbols appeared with rapid ease across and down the pages, covering the paper in a burst of expression. They came and went with flashing peed, rewriting and overwriting each other in a dizzying fashion so that Alpha Trion could pick out only single words or phrases. On they flowed, sign on sign, symbol on symbol, weaving themselves into the fabric of its pages in vast tapestries of light.

_“…catalytic reaction…”_

_“…for every protagonist and equal and opposite…”_

_“..wake him by the movement of his own heart..”_

Alpha Trion didn’t try to understand all o fit, only what the Covenant wanted him to understand. The passage spoke of brothers, souls, spirits, dancing, the flow of power from pole to pole and frequency to frequency, of fundamental uncertainties in all things that tore apart and made whole…and then, just as he felt on the brink of understanding, a final symbol etched itself onto the paper. One he knew all too well.

“ _Let it be.”_


	5. Two Worlds

Chapter 5-Two Worlds

Over the next few days, Orion Pax kept up his correspondence with Megatron. At first they just sent discreet messages back and forth, which was mostly just Megatron trying to gauge what kind of person Orion was through words. Trying to see if he was some sort of spy for the senate seeking to gain his trust.

But once the gladiator got over his initial suspicions of Orion, who proved his genuine need to understand and learn the truth, Megatron agree to host videolink sessions with the cop. For the first time Orion saw Megatron in a live feed, and not on some old clip of him, and he had to admit, he had a very powerful presence about him. Even through a screen, Megatron was a large mech, and he looked much older up close as well.

The topic of their conversations would vary from the painfully mundane-like politics and even sports-to deeper subjects like the subjugation and meaning of free will and individuality. On those subjects, Megatron was much more animated and lively, like he had learned the meaning of life and was trying to share it with the only person who bothered to really learn from him. It was the only time that Megatron could shake off the chains of reality and just let go.

“Where do you find the inspiration?” Orion asked. “I mean, you write all of these speeches and essays, they had to be hard to compose, even with help. Honestly, you make the singers and musicians from Harmonex look like protoforms.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Political treatises and song writing are two different things.” Megatron went quiet for a second. “Maybe they are a bit alike. Song writers seek inspiration from the world around them and what’s going on in order to find the inspiration to write their ballads. I am no different. I use what is happening around me to help me write my words. My feelings are what fuel it all, my experiences flesh it out, and my mind drives it all together.”

It was a beautiful way to put it. The more Megatron spoke, the more he wondered just what Megatron’s early life was like. The energon mines are not a place for the faint of heart, and even seasoned bots often succumb to the harsh conditions that are prevalent within the bowels of the mine shafts. And to think that the workers’ aren’t even treated with respect for all the risks that they take.

Megatron obviously had a plan, or else he wouldn’t have gone this far with his messages. But just what was his plan? Just how did Megatron plan on facing the senate and abolishing a social structure that had been around for thousands of years? Maybe now he was using words, but what if that failed? What if Megatron decided to use more direct means of getting his point across?

These questions made Orion nervous-and with good reason according to Jazz.

“You need to understand what you’re getting into here.” His friend said. “I’ll stand by you, bro. You know that. But you should also know that this will have serious consequences. Right now you’re just talking; the minute you do that laws are enforced? Are you prepared to break the laws that you were sworn to uphold?”

Not having a proper answer for that, he relayed the question to Megatron.

“What sort of laws?” Replied Megatron. “Laws that forbid the outcasts from mingling with the luxorers? Or laws that confined us to obey, not think?”

Orion had no answer for that either.

“Listen, Orion.” Jazz said. “If we all thought that laws are brutal and unfair, then the whole system would fall apart from revolution. You’re a police officer , bro. can you imagine what that would look like?”

“We’re not that far gone, Jazz. We’re a long way from that.” Orion answered. “It’s the opposite, don’t you see? Nobody says anything. Who decided that our lives were only worth how useful or unique our forms were? What do our leaders say about it?”

Nothing, that’s what. Despite being a Prime, Nominus was a largely absent leader in the eyes of the people, nothing more than an advocate for the Functionist sect that he overwhelmingly supports. The senate itself, an amalgamation of self interested bots, quelled any form of opposition to the social system that kept them on top of the planet. Across Cybertron, Megatron argued-and Orion had to agree-cybertronians had grown lazy, satisfied with what is handed to them.

“The people take everything at face value.” Megatron said. “They no longer ask questions or think for themselves. They are merely given an order and carry it out. Free will is the right to decide what you should do and how you should do it. Without that, we only act without thinking why or what we are doing, and without considering the consequences for our actions. Thus, we are doomed to repeat mistakes that can easily be avoided.”

XXXXXXX

The more Orion spoke with Megatron, the more he realized why so many people were drawn to him. Megatron was far from a raving lunatic or fanatic that preached on street corners in the past, he made some good points that were hard to deny, and asked questions that made people actually think. He encouraged people to think about their lives, about why they did the things they do and why they continued doing it.

He displayed a natural charisma. When he spoke, you found yourself listening. He was difficult to ignore and when he spoke of individual freedom it was easy to think that-no matter how many people were in the audience-he was talking directly to you.

Still, he hadn’t met the gladiator in person. He wasn’t sure the risk was worth it. In truth he wasn’t sure what the risks were.

But Megatron was eager to meet this curious bot. “You should at least consider it, Orion. If you want to understand Cyebrtron, you must see Tarn.”

“Maybe if you saw Iacon, you would better understand Cybertron itself.” Orion countered.

“If only that were possible,” Megatron said. He gave a weary smile that made him look even older. “But a mech can dream can’t he?”

Orion chose to cut that line of conversation short. It was a bit humbling to see a mech as well known and strong as Megatron have unfulfilled dreams of seeing the rest of this-their-world.

XXXXXXX

“Why Megatron?” Orion asked. He wanted to know why Megatron had the name that would undoubtedly draw attention-if that was his intention at all.

“It wasn’t by choice, mind you. I was born with this name and it wasn’t until much later that I learned it was the same name of the Fallen-just marginally different.” Megatron explained. “At first I cursed my name, thinking that it was the reason for my misfortune, that I was stuck in that dark hellhole slaving away for hours on end. It wasn’t until I met someone special that I realized that neither I nor my fellow miners were to blame. That fault lied with the senate and the Functionists, who think that we’re all expendable parts to an imaginary machine they use to justify their lording over us.”

“The Triple M had removed their T-Cogs in rebellion against the Functionists and Adaptus.” He said. “They blame Primus for the way things are.”

“Bah!” Megatron scoffed. “No one here in the Badlands believe in gods or the Thirteen. We put stock in what we can see, here and touch. Though there is one god that we worship to a certain degree.”

“Who?”

“A god who comes for us when our time is near, whether we want to or not. He looms over us, waiting to get our Sparks once they leave the mortal coil.” Megatron said eloquently. “You know him by many names, but mostly as Mortilus of the Guiding Hand.”

XXXXXXX

Elmeth sat in her chair, leaning her head on her arms as she watched Megatron talk once more with that Iaconian on the videolink. Despite just getting back from a match, he didn’t seem as tired as he usually does or somber. If anything he seemed more alive than she had ever seen him. It was honestly refreshing to see her good friend look so alive.

‘Who is this Orion Pax?’ Elmeth thought. ‘Who is he to get such a reaction out of Megatron?’

The gladiator sat near the window engaged in another deep discussion about philosophy. It involved something about the results of mixing religion with politics and vice versa and how it could lead to problems within their already unstable society. Once that conversation was over, they switched to something not as deep.

“So you have followers in Kaon and Tarn,” Orion said. “Where else?”

“That’s the kind of question a spy would ask.”

“If you were worried about me being a spy then we would’ve stopped talking a long time ago.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. My friend says that I should at least worry that you will betray me, the first time I got your message.” Megatron grinned at Elmeth, who huffed and looked away.

“Smart thinking. I would be a little suspicious to if I were in her position.”

“But if I cowered at the idea of you being in league with the senate, then what would that say to those who heed my words? How would it look it a mech who protested the senate was cowed at the mere mention of them?” He went on. “You have to be willing to fight for you goals if you want to see them come true. I will fight to see my dreams come to life, but will you? Can you fight for your principles?”

“I think I can,” Orion said after taking a few minutes to think about it. “And I will fight anyone for them.”

He meant it. Orion had known that there was a world beyond Iacon, beyond castes, but he never truly realized it until now. Megatron’s words had lit a fire in his Spark that he didn’t know existed until it was lit by the revolutionary ideas of this philosophical killer.

Megatron seemed to realize it to, as he smiled and nodded. “Now you’re starting to understand.”

XXXXXXXX

Jazz noticed the changes in his best friend over the past few days. Gone was the brooding police officer with no sense of humor, the new Orion Pax patrolled the streets of Iacon with a new sense of purpose, like he was reformatted into a whole new mech into a world of possibilities.

He pointed this out to him, who looked confused. “But, I’m no different than how I usually am.”

“No, you’re definitely different, I just don’t know why.” Jazz snapped his fingers. “I know! You’re smiling. Hell must have frozen over for that to happen.”

Elita-1 smacked his arm. “Jazz, be nice.”

The trio was at the community center near the Stellar Galleries, an observatory for astronomers and philosophers. Te place had a balcony that overlooked much of the busy central area of Iacon, which was already losing its golden luster in the face of the setting sun.

“He is right though,” She said. “You have changed a bit lately. What happened? Did you get a promotion?”

“No, I just feel a bit enlightened. That’s all.” Orion smiled. “Talking with Megatron has given me a new lease on life. I feel much lighter now.”

“Not him again.” Elita-1 groaned. “Orion, please, I don’t like you talking to him. It’s only going to end badly for you.”

“Elita, I’ve had my fair share of dangerous cases and faced numerous criminals right here in Iacon. I can handle Megatron if I need to, but I don’t. he’s the genuine article and support him.”

Jazz laughed. “He must be good if he’s getting such praise from you. You don’t dish those out often.”

“I thought you were smarter than this, Orion. You’re so entranced by his fancy words, but do you know what he’s really like?” Elita-1 asked. “Do you even know what he wants?”

Orion thought about the answer for a long time. “He wants what Cybertron used to be. The Cybertron where you were not categorized the moment you matured from a protoform. The Cybertron where anyone can become anything. The Cybertron that survived the Quintessons, the Vok and the Rust Plague. A word where no one was afraid to challenge themselves and test their limits.”

Jazz shook his head. “That’s what you want. It’s time you stopped pretending.”

Orion thought about that then nodded. “Yes, it is.”

They were silent for a while until the sun went fully down. Jazz got a call from one of his co-workers and had to leave, bidding them both goodbye. This left Orion and Elita-1 alone together in a tense silence that permeated the entire empty area. It was Elita-1 who broke the little stand-off they had going on.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She said. “All this talk of going against the senate and Functionists, it’s a dangerous line of thought. How do you think the higher castes will react to this idea? Do you think they want to return to the days when success was based on merit and dedication?”

“How can I count on others to do what I am unwilling to do myself?” He replied.

Elita-1 said nothing. They sat together in the darkness looking down at the luminous city below them. Once he was sure that she calmed down-somewhat-he spoke up again.

“Do you remember that incident a few stellar cycles ago?” He asked. “You saw a mech get beaten to death because he transformed into a beast. They killed a bot in broad daylight and no one did a thing. In fact, they weren’t even punished, only suspended for disturbing the peace.”

“What is your point?”

“As I recall you were so angry that no one did anything to stop it. I think it was the first time I saw you get passionate about anything really.” He looked down at her, blue eyes glowing in the night. “So why are you so afraid of the senate now? Where did all of that righteous anger disappear to? Do you think that they’ll come after you for talking smack to them or something? That they might come after you for some trumped up reason?”

“No, it’s none of that. What I have is very real, and it could get us all in trouble.” Elita-1 said.

Orion was about to ask what she meant when he saw something that shut him up. A small piece of metal ore floated up into the air in front of his face. It stayed there for a moment before slowly floating over to Elita-1’s outstretched hand. She looked up at him and he immediately knew why she was so scared of the regime.

Elita-1 was an Outlier.

XXXXXXX

The next few days were a blur. Orion did his duties as usual, not out of loyalty to his caste, but because it was a job that he took seriously. Orion considered himself lucky that he enjoyed his job-or at least liked it enough not to think about shooting himself-as there were numerous bots in the world who were stuck with jobs in castes that either they didn’t like or weren’t cut out for. Orion was an enforcer of the law who vowed to protect people from crime and corruption that threatened the stability of their lives. Perhaps that was why Megatron’s words resonated with him so. He could not stand corruption, and ironically the senate was probably the most corrupt of them all.

Things between him and Elita-1 had changed gradually. They never spoke of what she had shown him on that night, but they both knew that nothing could really be said that hasn’t been implied already. Still, when he saw her in passing, she looked much better, like she was no longer burdened to carry her secret alone. Orion vowed on the Allspark to never speak of her powers to anyone, not even Jazz. To do so would be a death wish for her.

Outliers were bots with powers that had no relation to their overall design or function. Obviously that didn’t sit well with the Functionists, who deemed all outliers as even more horrid freaks than beast formers. So great was this social stigma that they would actively send agents, Enforcers, to hunt down and capture or kill the outlier in their sights. It was a terrifying thought to have those fanatics hunting you down like a wounded Turbofox because of some anomaly you possess. Orion could now see why Elita-1 was so scared of drawing attention to him-and herself. One slip up could mean the end of her life and possibly his if any official got wind of his actions.

Even still, he was in too deep to stop now. Megatron had opened his eyes and once you see paradise for what it really is, you can no longer see it as paradise. And he still wanted to know just how Megatron planned to jump start this little revolution of his. Sure he was using words now, but what if that failed? Would he still go the non-violent route or just upgrade to more active methods? As an officer of the law he could not in good conscious just ignore a potential threat, no matter how enlightening Megatron was. But Orion hoped that Megatron would not go down that path-not when he had so much going for him already.

And it seemed that their conversations were not going unnoticed. Spectators on the DataNet would listen on the conversations they had and speak of this mech who thought himself as equal to Megatron of Tarn. They spoke about him as much as Megatron and many of his quotes would pop up here and there. Though they made sure to keep his identity a secret, he was sure that he would be found out eventually.

Despite the measures he taken to make sure that such a thing never happens, Orion figured that he’d play it safe and lay low for a while. It was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots. He messaged Megatron and informed him that he was going to be silent for a few days until they met in person.

Things were coming to a head very shortly. Maybe it was time for him and Megatron to meet face to face.

 

 


	6. We Meet at Journey's End

Chapter 6-We Meet at Journey’s End

 It was surprisingly easy for Orion to get an extended leave for himself. His captain, Zeta, had told him that he deserved one after almost getting killed pursuing a terrorist. And that was after he was almost blown to pieces by a proximity bomb.

 Orion had said his goodbyes to Jazz and Elita-1 at Iacon’s gates. He tried seeing Alpha Trion but the Archivist was gone to someplace that no one, not even Elita-1 knew about. Seeing Elita-1 before his departure was harder than it needed to be after all the drama that went on between them, but she was accepting of his choice to see this through to the end. She had promised not to badger him anymore so long as he promised to stay safe and come back in one piece. It was a promised that he vowed to keep.

 Once the gloomy goodbyes were done, Orion walked out the gates to Iacon and transformed, driving away from the city that was his home and into the wilderness, towards a future that-unknown to him-would be sparked by events that change him and the people he cared about forever.

XXXXXXXX

 The quickest path to Tarn was through the Orbital Torus States (Altihex, Uraya and Polihex), most specifically Altihex. He spent a day there to rest up before leaving the next morning, leaving Altihex and passing through Kalis, where he passed by the Well of Allsparks. The Well was a massive pit that went deep into Cybertron, presumably reaching Vector Sigma itself.

 Here it was believed that the first Cybertronians-the Thirteen Primes-arose from Cybertron’s core near the beginning. Orion only spent a few minutes looking at the sight before moving on. He, like most others, thought that the Thirteen were just myths, stories that helped fill the void in their history that was their origins. Though there could be some truth to the myth of the Thirteen, it was often skewed by creation myths such as that of the Guiding Hand.

 It was from here that Orion passed the borders that marked the entrance into the Badlands. There were no signs or anything that marked it as official territory, but the Badlands were characterized as having rougher terrain. It was like the civilized territory of his home had given way to the rugged, uneven brutality of the Badlands-alien territory. It was as if the entire region was made from a combination of carbonized metal and onyx. Orion had heard tales that the Badlands were once the site of a great battle in pre-recorded history, that it was the former kingdom of the barbarian king Galvatron. Of course, he had no idea that it was true, but considering that Galvatron was one of Cybertron’s most fearsome warlords with a temper to match the hazardous terrain of the Badlands, he didn’t deny that it was a fitting occupation for him. He was so enraptured by the morbid scenery that he failed to notice the figures taking aim at him with their weapons until he heard someone shout out.

 “Now!”

 Orion suddenly found himself under attack by an unknown assailant. Proton missiles were fired from hidden compartments within the canyon walls, and the bottom of the canyon was littered with explosions that blossomed all over the ground. Orion cursed as he swerved to avoid getting blasted to pieces by the missiles. Then the ground behind him exploded as he drove over one particularly faulty patch of land-mines! Soon his vision was filled with flames and his audio receptors were deafened by the sound of explosions booming around him. If he survived this- there was a high chance of him requiring repairs to his audio array later.

 He drove through the blossoming exploding canyon and drove as fast as he could towards the only exit, the other entrance to the canyon. He thought he was home free, but then a grey truck appeared and blocked his way. Orion transformed and dug his feet into the ground, skidding along the metal sheets as he also pulled out his blaster and battle axe in the process. Sparks shot from his feet as he came to a stop before the grey truck and immediately got into a battle stance.

 The truck also transformed, reconfiguring into a large mech with light grey/silver armor and black highlights along his chest, arms and legs. He was a head taller than Orion, and sported an angular face with small horns on top of his head. In his hand was a long energo-sword that wasn’t activated yet, but still emitted an ominous glow along the length of the blade. The weapon looked like it could cleave a Primal Vanguard mech in two in a single swing.

 Orion looked around him and saw four other mechs surrounding him. One was dark red and black, another was bright yellow brandishing an axe, a white and blue bot hefting a sniper rifle on his shoulder, and a black mech with two plasma rifles mounted on his shoulders. It didn’t take long for Orion to come to the obvious conclusion.

 “Bandits.” He said. The grey mech before him nodded, with an unsettling smile that showed his teeth.

 “Exactly, at least you’re aware of your current predicament. So many people always ask what’s going on or what are you doing, as if they’ve never heard about bandits before. Honestly, it’s a bit annoying after a while.” The grey mech said in a pleasant tone. Orion wondered how could he talk about robbing people at gunpoint as if he was talking about the weather. “Since you know of your dire situation, we require you to relinquish your valuables and/or weapons to us and we will let you go in return.”

 “And if I don’t give them to you?” Orion asked, testing the waters. The other four yahoos looked easy to beat if he was fast enough, but this large bot before him made him feel uneasy.

 “It’s not a request, bub!” The yellow mech growled. “Hand over the goods or we’ll gut ya like a turbo fox!”

 “Now, now Drag Strip. There’s no need to be hostile yet.” The grey mech turned to Orion. “Judging by your clean armor and lack of a smoky stench, I assume you’re not from the Badlands and thus, you do not know who we are. Let me take some time out of my precariously busy schedule to inform you who we are then.”

 He pointed to the white mech. “This is Breakdown. He has an eye for potential pay days and is our resident sniper.” He pointed to the black mech. “Wildrider is an expert in the dangerous field of pyrotechnics. He makes great land mines and even better fireworks.” Then he motioned to the yellow and purple mech with the bad attitude. “You already know Drag Strip. He has a short temper and you don’t want to get on is bad side.” Finally, he pointed to the deep red mech with the missile launchers. “And then we have Dead End. He’s the one who had built those automated missile launchers that had you on the run back there.”

 “Remind me to send him a thank you gift for all his hard work.” Orion said dryly. The leader continued without pause.

 “And I am Motormaster, leader of our little band of outlaws known as the Stunticons.” He said passionately. “You may not have heard of us in your cozy little office in Iacon, but that is moot. We are all trained warriors here. All five of us.”

 Orion skillfully spun his axe around his arm and slammed the pommel into the ground. “So am I. Funny that. So with the pleasantries out of the way, how about we work on beating the slag out of each other now? Because I have somewhere to be, and you’re wasting valuable vacation time.”

 Motormaster narrowed his yellow eyes at the smaller mech. Then he spoke, this time without the pleasant attitude he had seconds before. “Very well.”

 Faster than Orion could follow, Motormaster swung his sword at him. He barely had enough time to raise his axe to defend himself before he was hit by a blow that felt like getting hit by a bruiser. Unprepared for both Motormaster’s speed and strength, Orion was sent flying back a good distance from the Stunticons. He skidded across the ground, digging his axe into the metal earth to slow himself down. That was only one blow, yet he could feel the very metal in his bones still vibrate like a tuning fork.

 Motormaster ran after him, once again displaying unnatural speed as he was on Orion in seconds, racing across the ground in long strides that looked more suited for a Thunderhoof than a mechanoid. He swung his sword again, but Orion ducked under what should’ve been an immediate beheading, feeling the wind race over his back from the sheer strength the sword was swung. He followed up with an upward slash with his axe, the heated blade of the axe leaving a deep, red/orange gash in Motormaster’s torso plate.

 That made everyone pause. Orion stood ready for the next attack, but saw that the Stunticons were frozen in place, looking at him in shock. It didn’t take Orion long to realize that these bandits had never met someone who would fight against them, let alone actually wound a big, strong bot like Motormaster. The grey mech’s face went disturbingly blank as he processed what just happened. The calm before-

 “HOW DARE YOU!”

 -the storm. Orion had no time to react as Motormaster lashed out with a punch that caught him in the chest, sending him up into the air before crashing down on the hard ground. The cop groaned as he tried to get up, but the blow had seriously disrupted his joints and circuits, like he was hit by a sonic vibration weapon. Orion got to his knees and saw Motormaster charge at him like a stampeding bolvine creature, sword raised to cut him down. Orion could only raise his axe and wait for him to come.

 “Motormaster!”

 The Stunticon leader froze in place, his enraged expression melting into one of worry. Orion got his feet and didn’t relax, despite the pain he felt in his midsection. Then he looked up and saw a huge black bird fly towards them. The bird neared the ground and smoothly shifted form into a lithe femme who landed on the ground in a single movement.

 “N-Nightshade!” Motormaster stammered.

 ‘Nightshade?’ Orion thought. ‘As in Nightshade, the legendary Dark Bird?’

 The Dark Bird was a renown revolutionary who rejected both the caste system and functionism. She was a terrorist who was very good at her job and had many supporters in the lower and middle castes for her work in fighting the corruption that she saw infecting Cybertron’s government. Her abilities were fearsome, and the beast mode her alias was named after was even more so. The fact that the Stunticons knew her by name, meant that they were probably her associates-comrades in arms against the world. Orion realized that he may have gotten himself into trouble by starting a fight with a group who works for her.

 Looking at her now, Orion was not afraid to say that she was a beauty. She had a lithe frame that was black with dark shades of grey mixed in along the arms and legs, and glowing power lines ran up her torso and chest. Her wings were spread behind her, showing off a wing span that was almost as tall as him. Her face was narrow, with armor plating that looked a little bit like fixed hair framing her face and a little red gem in the center of her forehead. Her facial features were white, with purple eyes and matching lips that were set in a stiff frown as she regarded Motormaster.

 “Nightshade,” Motormaster cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

 “I should be asking you the same question.” Nightshade replied. “We have a very important day ahead of us, in case you forgot. Things to do with little time to waste, and yet here you all are galivanting around the Badlands like you’re Galvatron! And that goes for the rest of you!”

 Orion watched perplexed as the Stunticons, who were acting so confident and serious a moment ago, all looked down at their feet in shame, like a bunch of misbehaving protoforms being scolded by a batch initiator. Nightshade gave them a few more harsh words before sending them off to parts unknown. Motormaster sneaked him a baleful look as he transformed and drove away with the other Stunticons.

 “I take it you are not serious harmed?” She asked him once the others were gone.

 “No, I am fine. Just a bit shaken.” Orion answered.

 Nightshade looked him up and down, like he was a weapon she had never seen before. “It’s no easy feat to land a hit on Motormaster. He’s a powerhouse in his own right with a lot of experience behind him.”

 “I take it that you know them well?” He asked cautiously. He didn’t want to make any more enemies in this land than he wanted to.

 “You could say that.” Nightshade answered. “We all know each other in some shape or form here in the ass end of Cybertron. Mostly out of necessity, some with a common goal in life. It’s more than I can say for the shining towers of Iacon or the halls of Nova Cronum.”

 Orion decided to ignore that vaguely backhanded remark about his home. He noticed another mech walk up to Nightshade, a blue mech with no facial features whose footsteps were disturbingly silent along the metal ground.

 “So what brings an Iaconian all the way out here into bandit territory?” Nightshade asked.

 Orion didn’t feel right telling these two his personal business, but he knew that not answering would insult the very prideful terrorist. “I’m visiting a friend in Tarn.”

 “In Tarn?”

 “Yes,” He nodded. “We’ve been talking over the DataNet for a few months, and I figured that I should visit him at least once while I have the free time.”

 “I’m guessing it’s your first time going there.” She said. At his nod, she continued, “Then a word of advice. Watch your back. Don’t talk to anyone, and don’t get too close to anyone either. Tarnians don’t take kindly to people from outside the Badlands waltzing into their home. And let me tell you, the Stunticons are not the worse things you’ll find here.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind.” Orion said and tilted his head in a slight bow. “Thank you for your assistance again, but I must be going now.”

 “By all means, don’t let me keep you here.”

 Orion put his axe away and transformed, driving past Nightshade and the nameless mech and leaving the canyon. Nightshade watched him go, not taking her eyes off him until he was just a spec in the distance.

 “Well?” Nightshade glanced at Soundwave.

 “He is visiting a friend in Tarn,” Soundwave said, relaying what he got from scanning Orion’s mind. “Or someone he considers a friend. Megatron.”

 “I see,” Nightshade muttered.

 “Shall I have him followed?”

 “No. We have more important things to worry about.” She said and transformed to beast mode. “Megatron can take care of himself.”

 They went on their way towards their secret hideout in the Badlands. They had plans of their own today, plans that involved liberating Cybertron from the tyrannical clutches of the Prime and his functionist slaves.

XXXXXXX

 Tarn was a completely different city from Iacon. Orion knew that, but he was still taken aback by the aesthetic different between the two cities. The city itself was like one large jigsaw puzzle, with towering buildings that looked uneven and jagged, as if they were made from large scraps leftover from the smelting factories. Highways crisscrossed the space between buildings, with bots of all shapes and sizes racing along the airborne highways.

 Orion found Tarn’s ground level to be no different. It was crowded, possibly even more so than Iacon. Despite having spent his whole life in a metropolis like this, Orion felt suffocated. Between the overcrowded streets and the hot, thick air pumped out of the refineries, Tarn felt more like a stuffed prison than a large city-state. The sky was grey, even this late at night, and the rain caused by the smog as a result of the dozen refineries and factories was heavy and dense. He could barely see.

 It took him a few minutes to get his bearings and enter a side street that was almost empty save for the typical homeless bum sitting on the sidewalk. He knew that it was dangerous to be walking away from the crowd, he could get mugged or jumped for his shanix, but he couldn’t take that claustrophobic feeling anymore. It was a bit scary to be honest. Facing something that he couldn’t arrest, or fight, was something that he didn’t want to think about. Disease and afflictions have that effect on people. Orion wondered if that was what it felt like during the Rust Plague, when mass hysteria arose over the spread of a plague that didn’t even hurt as if slowly ate away at the metallic body of a Cybertronian.

 “What’s wrong with me?” Orion asked himself. “Where did these thoughts come from?”

 Perhaps it was the gloomy, dark atmosphere of Tarn that had him thinking these morbid thoughts. For a city like this to have such an effect on him made him even more wary, and he strived to hasten his search for the place Megatron had told him about. Sadly, he made an error in not asking Megatron how to get there, thinking that Tarn would be an easy place to navigate on his own. The folly of mechs.

 His pondering, however, was cut short when he heard a song echoing in his receptors. It wasn’t a song with words, but a hymn, one that blocked out everything in Orion’s senses and drew him forward almost as if he was in a trance. He strained his audio arrays to hear the song over the pounding noise of the downpour that was dousing the city, and it lead him into another alleyway, one that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t paying attention. He went deeper into the city, knowing that it was dangerous to be wondering around like this, but still seeking to know where that song was coming from.

 The song led him out the alley and into a small alcove, where a large aqueduct was also located. Water from the runoff in the streets and industrial areas ran through the channels under the city and through the pipes, where it all coalesced into a single artificial river that was dumped into the underground beneath Tarn. The distance was so great that the water spread and dissolved into a fine mist before it even reached the bottom. But Orion’s attention was focused on the white figure that was sitting near the channel. He took a step forward, and the singing stopped abruptly, making him pause. The figure stood up and slowly turned towards him, and Orion felt his Spark pulse faster.

 She was beautiful, and Orion rarely used that adjective often; snow white with a slender, almost thin frame with rhombus shaped red eyes and red lips that stood out against her silver face. She had long, slender limbs that looked more like those of a beast, and Orion noticed her wings-or rather, her wing. One wing was clearly severed near the joint, a clean cut that left only a little bit of the wing left. So entranced was he that he didn’t notice her approaching him until she spoke up.

 “Hello.” She said.

 “Oh. Uh, hello.” Orion replied. Smooth moves, Pax.

 “You must Orion Pax of Iacon.” She said. “Welcome to Tarn. Megatron is waiting for you at the arena.”

 “Are you a friend of Megatron?” Orion asked.

 “Yes. You could say I’m his confidant of sorts. As for how I know you name,” She smiled. “Megatron speaks about you a lot. You’ve had quite the impact on him.” The white femme looked up at the rain that was still falling on them in droves. “Let’s get out of the rain before you slip into the canal.”

 “Excuse me,” He stopped her before she could leave. “That song. What’s the name of it?”

 “I don’t know. It’s just something that I hear in my dreams sometimes, or when I’m alone.” She answered. It would ring in my head when something special happens as well. Like us meeting here.”

 “I see.” Orion was friends with Jazz, a bot who worked as a DJ for underground clubs and knew a lot of music from all walks of Cybertronian life, but he never heard something to melancholy before, not even from Harmonex. “May I have your name?”

 “Elmeth,” She said. “My name is Elmeth.”

XXXXXXX

 For a moment, Orion wondered if the sun ever shined down on Tarn. The entire city was always shrouded under a thick cloud of smoke and compounds fueled by refinery fires. The deeper Elmeth led him into Tarn, the denser it felt. The roads became tangled with conduits and powerlines, more catwalks bridged the buildings…it was all so confusing and jumbled. A stark contrast to the order of Iacon, where you actually had a sense of space and location.

 What was it like for the bots that were Forged within its borders? To be nurtured in this civilized chaos and then thrust into the world where you spent the majority of your life underground, away from the sun?

 Elmeth led him to the building Megatron described in his latest transmission. It was south of the court house, in a pit between two smelting pools that could not be seen unless you looked right over the edge. The building itself was a massive black pyramid on top a squared sheet of metal. It used to be a historical monument of some sort, composed of pure onyx and carbonated black steel that was built in honor of someone, whose name was forever lost to the annals of history. Now it was the perfect place to hold annual gladiator tournaments and house black market places that sold illegal drugs, weapons and components. Pretty much a place that would get you a life imprisonment if you were seen operating a joint like this anywhere else. Orion resisted the urge to arrest everyone on sight.

 From what he could gather, under the pyramid were thousands of passage ways connected to work shops, materials storage, and refinery pipelines that provided the perfect places for gladiatorial matches. It was once ruled by a large crime syndicate, which was systematically wiped out not too long ago under mysterious circumstances-presumably by some group originating in Tarn or Kaon. The information on the event was scarce, but whoever did it made sure to wipe out even the low level grunts so as to eliminate the chance for retaliation.

 There were hundreds of places like this in Tarn, twenty more in Stryx; more yet in various settlements in the Badlands, crisscrossing all the way to the eastern terminus of the Sonic Canyons. Here though, was the heart of the gladiatorial pits. All fighting mechanoids from Tarn’s districts to the other Badland cities came here to the big leagues to make their names. Here, Megatron, a jobless mech with no real home to call his own, was forged to become a warrior king in order to support himself and get his ideals across.

 They approached the black pyramid from the side entrance, which was guarded by two mechs-one slightly smaller than Orion, black and white with blazing red eyes, and one enormous mech, four times his size and carrying a mace a little taller than Orion. They both froze at the sight of him, but seeing Elmeth with him had calmed them somewhat.

 “My lady!” The big one bowed his head to her in reverence. “Welcome back! We have been waiting for you to return!”

 The smaller one eyed Orion with a glare. “Who’s he?”

 “This is Orion Pax. He’s a friend of Megatron.” Elmeth said. She was sure to let them know immediately not to punk him or risk angering Megatron. “Orion, this is Lugnut and Barricade. They’re apart of the security team.”

 “We’re also gladiators to.” Barricade added.

 ‘He’s threatened by me.’ Orion thought. He figured the Barricade didn’t want a stranger like him getting friendly with someone as high class as Elmeth and was trying to assert his dominance early on in the conversation.

 It seemed that Elmeth also noticed this and put a stop to it at once. “Barricade, could you go get Megatron please?” She asked sweetly.

 Barricade glowered at Orion for a moment before nodding. “Sure thing.” He glanced at Lugnut, giving a discreet signal to watch Orion, before disappearing into the doorway.

 “I’m sorry about Barricade,” Elmeth apologized. “He’s a bit…iffy when it comes to upper class bots.”

 “It’s okay, I’m not offended.” Orion said. ‘Honestly I was expecting it from these people.’

 Then the very mech he came here to see appeared in the doorway-Megatron. Orion was a bit stunned at how tall Megatron was. He wasn’t as tall as Lugnut, but he was a head taller than the Iaconian officer, with gunmetal grey and black around his forelegs. Megatron was bulky and looked like he could take a proton missile head on without suffering severe damage-possibly two if need be. Lugnut bowed again in submission to Megatron, but the gladiator paid him no heed as he walked up to meet Orion.

 “Judging from your expression, the cluster of Tarn has overwhelmed you a bit. It certainly had an effect on me when it first came here as well.” Megatron said and smiled. “It’s good to see you here, friend.”

 “And you.” Orion replied. They clasped hands.

 Friend. That was a word he sadly didn’t use very much…perhaps only with Jazz, Elita-1 and Dion. Maybe Ratchet from his days in the Iacon University of Science and Technology. Definitely Alpha Trion. But that was it. His circle of friends was small, but it felt good to have someone like Megatron see him as a friend.

 After they traded greetings, Megatron and Elmeth led Orion into the pyramid with Barricade following them like an angry shadow. The internal space was crisscrossed with catwalks and girders, and spectator seats lined the floors.

 “We hold aerial tournaments here.” Megatron said. “I fought here a couple of times. It’s not my cup of Ferrum, that’s for sure.”

 “Megatron almost lost an arm while he was trying to ride a Seeker like he was a hoverbike.” Elmeth smiled. “I don’t know what possessed him to do it, but he was lucky he wasn’t a smear on the wall.”

 “I still won, didn’t I?” Megatron asked.

 “Yes, but you made Knockout a not so happy camper as a result.” She replied. “He had to jump through some big hoops to get you some new components for you arm.”

 Orion jumped back a bit as a jet flew close to the bridge. “You fight here, in places like this every day?”

 Megatron nodded. “Yes. At first it was terrifying, fighting for the first time and not knowing if you’ll live to see the next sunrise. But then you live, and after a while you stop being afraid and learn to enjoy the rush fighting gives you. It becomes addictive and hard to resist as you get better and stronger. But this is a double-edged sword though.”

 “How so?”

 “You only get a thrill fighting opponents who give you a challenge. Otherwise, fighting people who are only moderately strong feels like a monotonous chore, a job and nothing else.” Megatron continued. “Soon, it gets to the point where you’re just hoping for that one opponent who is willing to give you a challenge, to make you feel that spark you had when you first started fighting. Life isn’t fun without the challenges it brings. Fighting is no different.”

 Orion looked at Megatron, noticing how passionate he sounded about all this. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Barricade bristled. “Listen buddy- “

 Megatron held up a hand to stop him. “In a sense, yes. I am also like that, at least before I met Elmeth. Fighting may be well and good, but just doing it for the sake of fighting will lead to a short life cycle. Fighting for a cause makes it worthwhile.”

 “But fighting for a cause might also generate the very friction you’re trying to solve.” Orion protested. “There are other ways to change the world without violence.”

“Sounds like a compromise is in order.” Barricade interrupted. “And around here, Pax, compromising means agree with the boss.”

 “Whoa there,” Megatron said. “None of that. Orion is here as a guest, a friend, not a subordinate. He is a friend of our cause.”

 They locked gazes with each other, and Barricade, of course, was the first to drop. “Understood boss.” He said. “No offense meant.”

 “None taken.”

 Megatron led the group to the residential area, where the fighters and mechanics lived in crowded barracks until their next matches. Megatron actually lived in a luxurious (for them) penthouse suite at the top of the pyramid, a reward for his long, hard years of reaching the top of the food chain in this underground world of theirs. Once there, Megatron sent Barricade away and allowed Orion entry into his home.

 By Iaconian standards, the penthouse was mediocre at best, but here in the slums of Tarn, it was like heaven. There were three rooms in all, with a living area, a bar on the side, and even a terminal for the DataNet. Orion couldn’t help but liken it to his own home, though not as large, nor as dirty. He would have loved to have a bar in his apartment though.

 “Not bad.” Orion said. Elmeth smiled.

 “The perks of becoming top dog in the pits.” She said. “Trust me, once Megatron falls from grace, it’ll be back to shacking with the other warriors.”

 “But that won’t happen for a long time.” Megatron pointed out.

 Elmeth walked over to the bar and began looking for some bottles of energon. “Is there anything you would like, Orion?”

 “Um, just Estriol for me, please.” He requested.

 “Estriol?” Megatron said in mock surprise. He clapped Orion on the back, almost knocking him over. “A strapping young mech like you? I thought you would’ve gone for some of the heavier stuff, like Ferrum.”

 “That’s way too heavy for me. I tried that once, and I woke up with three Turbofoxes in my house using it as a nest.” Orion said.

 “Ha! I see why you have such reservations,” Megatron smiled. “But don’t be afraid to let go every once in a while. Why, even Elmeth here partakes in the occasional heavy drink now and then.”

 “Really?” Elmeth didn’t look like the type to take in Ferrum energon, not with her build.

 “I tried drinking Vitreous once,” Elmeth said, sounding a bit shy. “It…didn’t end well.”

 “She went into beast mode and rampaged around the arena roaring and growling,” Megatron said. “I think you tore someone’s arm off to, but I wasn’t there to see that.”

 “It’s not funny!” If she was flesh and blood, Elmeth would be blushing right now. “I could’ve killed someone.”

 “No different from a usual day in the Pits.” He replied with a shrug. “But there was nothing like seeing giant beast act like a drunken Pneuma Lion to lighten people’s spirits.”

 “Glad you think it’s funny.” Elmeth grumbled.

 Orion looked at them and saw how at ease they were with each other. It reminded him of how he was with Elita-1, always throwing witty quips at each other and generally just enjoying being near one another. He wondered if they were conjux endura yet, or were in the process of becoming one. It was a bit odd to see such a strong bond like theirs hold up in a land where might makes right.

 After giving them their energon, Elmeth left Orion and Megatron alone. They stood by the window, looking out at the city in front of them. The undercity, where many bots of the Manual and Labor Castes lived, was even more of a chaotic mess than the city above. There were no skyscrapers here, only lines of houses and apartment buildings that were a patchwork of repurposed sheets of metal and components that were outdated and worn. Here, Tarn’s lower caste lived, working from sunrise to sunset, only to do the same thing again and again, with little to no proper treatment from those who governed above them. After taking in the sight, Orion decide to start another conversation.

 “So, when you told me that meeting someone had changed your view of the world,” Orion said. “I take it that you were talking about Elmeth?”

 “Yes. She is a prime example of how backwards and barbaric this caste system-no, the entire concept of functionism is.” Megatron said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed her severed wing?”

 “Hard not to.” He replied. Such a wound on an otherwise perfect being was hard to ignore. He hoped that Elmeth wasn’t offended by his staring.

 “It’s a reminder from her time living in Praxus,” Megatron explained. “Some police officers thought it would be fun to play target practice with her, and she lost her wing to a vibro-blade while fighting back. She already had a hard life as a beast former who had no place in a world where one’s alt mode dictated their place in life and in line. Though the officers were clearly the guilty party, they were given a slap on the wrist, while she was exiled for ‘disturbing the peace’.” He snorted and drank his energon. “It’s sickening.”

 “But she did nothing wrong!”

 “Oh, but in their eyes, her just living was a crime in itself. Having an alt mode that provides nothing to the senate’s so-called perfect society is essentially a death sentence for her. The caste system allows for violence like this to occur without opposition, because one can just say that they did it all to preserve the status quo. They would say that the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy saved our lives from extinction, and thus it is our duty to uphold its laws and values, lest we descend into chaos again.” Megatron looked at Orion. “That is why I’m having the people of Cybertron wake up to the deception that’s been ruling our lives since the Golden Age. So that people like Elmeth would not suffer like she had.”

 Orion hummed. “How do you propose to do this? You make inspiring an entire population sound like an easy thing to do.”

 “I’m am doing what others have tried and failed to do-light the spark in the people, and let the flames spread. I’m seeking to convince the people to rebel on their own volition. The senate may be able to silence one or two voices, but if a thousand rise and take a stand, then they will no longer be able to ignore us. They will be forced to listen.”

 “And if this doesn’t work?” Orion asked. “What if your method doesn’t work? What if they don’t want to wake up and see the world for how it is? What if they want to live a stagnate life where those who are born with the right genes live on top without having to work for it? Will you lead the revolution yourself?”

 Megatron was silent for a long time. Orion couldn’t tell if his silence was because he had no answer or was just admiring the scenery.

 “I am no leader. The people will choose how to go about this their own way, but I will fight with my words and nothing more. However,” He looked down at his reflection in his drink. “As for your first question, I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t give me any pleasant thoughts, though. My cause is just, for my words have inspired many, including you. But…”

 “But what?”

 “Others do not share my unwillingness to cause violence. I’m sure you’ve heard about the rash of bombings that have been occurring lately?”

 “Of course,” Orion huffed. “I had a front row seat to the bombing in Nominus Square.”

 “Really?” Megatron asked, looking intrigued.

 “Yes. The one who did it was an outlier who could phase through solid objects.” He explained. “You can guess how that went down. She had a partner who completely thrashed me before they both escaped.”

 “It’s only going to get worse from there. Many citizens from Tarn and Kaon believe that such conflicts cannot be won by talking. Many of those past terrorist attacks, as well as future ones, will be done in my name, spurred on by my words.”

 “You need to distance yourself from them before they bring the pressure down on you.” The cop said without hesitation. “Violence at this stage will only be counterproductive.”

 “Counterproductive. But not wrong?”

 It took Orion a minute to realize that the gladiator was teasing him. “Of course wrong. Megaton, if a bunch of people go around Cybertron destroying things in our name, it will not only tarnish your image but also the cause as well. You’ll be written off as radicals.”

“I agree,” Megatron said, then frowned. “But another way to look at it is that if we truly believe in self-determination and free will, we must respect the right of my followers to disagree with out methods and choose their own. That’s the catch.”

 “There’s always a catch.” Orion sighed. They both looked out the window at the city once more. “But they might listen to you. You do have a way with words.”

 “I can stop them no more than you can stop a raging inferno with your bare hands.” Megatron sipped his drink. “I only lit the spark. They’re spreading the flames.”

 Nightshade and Soundwave walked through the rough terrain of the Badlands, under the huge shadow of the largest mountain of the Manganese Mountain range. As they approached the mountain, they scanned the area, as they always do, before reaching the foot of the mountain and disappearing through the hologram image that covered the entrance to their secret base.

 It was far from cozy, and took almost a month and a half to dig a tunnel through the tough steel roots of the mountain deeper into the ground, where they hollowed out a cave for the placement of their equipment and such. But it has served them well, and now it shall serve them again as the center of their largest operation yet.

 “Is everything in order?” Nightshade asked as they descended the tunnel.

 “Yes, I have double-checked the schedule and intercepted their transmissions.” Soundwave said. “Half of the functionist council is leaving, so the facility is only guarded by a few platoons of Enforcers.”

 Nightshade snorted. “Those hellspawn maim and kill for their righteous cause, and yet they can’t walk around without half an army following their every move. Pathetic.”

 They reached the end of the tunnel and pushed the cloth flap aside and enter their little abode. It was little more than a cave, one that was lined with high tech monitors and computers. At the center near the back of the cave, was their assembled team; Shadowkat, Blackbeetle, and the Stunticons. Her own personal army-the Sons of Cybertron.

 “The time has come my friends,” Nightshade said. “The time where we fight back at the tyrants who have made our lives a living hell since birth. Tomorrow, we strike at the heart of the GTC, the Functionist Council itself! For Cybertron!”

 “For Cybertron!” The revolutionaries chanted.

 And so the opening salvo was fired, and the embers of discord arose from the scorched land.

 


	7. Sons of Cybertron

Chapter 7-Sons of Cybertron

 Sitting in the gladiator arena was like standing on the very edge of the Sonic Canyons. The rushing wind tunnels that shot out of the canyons was almost matched by the roaring cheers and shouts of the massive crowd that filled the spectator seats to capacity. Of course, such a thing paled in comparison to Cybertron’s greatest natural wonder, but that’s what it felt like to Orion. It was a blessing that he was sitting with Megatron in the pavilion overlooking the arena and not in the stands themselves. Orion would’ve gone deaf even if he changed the input on his audio sensors.

 But despite sitting apart from the rest of the crowd, Orion could still hear the thunderous cries of nearly a thousand bots, he could feel the rumbling coming from a thousand feet stomping in unison, and he could barely hear himself over the combination of all the chaos.

 Down in the arena two creaking mechs-recent out of work miners who just entered the arena circuit-faced off against a swarming army of Minicons. More Minicons than Orion could count littered the steel grounds of the arena, body parts strewn everywhere. The larger mech, who was named Hydrau, was torn and leaking from dozens of tiny wounds. The other mech was in much better shape, and he was slashing away at his opponents with two vibro-weapons that looked like they were put together in a scrapyard.

 When one of the Minicons slashed at the circuits in Hydrau’s right ankle, Orion looked away with a grimace. His line of work involved him investigating some murder cases, some of them very gruesome, but seeing the brutality itself instead of the aftermath was something that he wasn’t fond of. For some reason, seeing these matches in person made it all the more harder for him to really watch entirely.

 “I didn’t think that seeing bots kill each other like this in person would be so hard.” Orion said. “And you people enjoy watching this?”

 “Do we look like we’re enjoying this?” Megatron asked in response.

 “I don’t see anyone leaking lubricant.”

 Hydrau, kneeling on his dead leg, tried sweeping away the Minicons assaulting him, but a few got past his defenses and began severing the connections in his arms and torso. He fell to the ground and the Minicons began hacking away at him.

 “Sure it’s hard to watch the first time, but overtime it gets easier. For many, this is the only way they can get by in life, like me.” Megatron continued. “But others do enjoy the thrill it gives them. They crave recognition, it grants them fame they cannot attain by slaving away at their day jobs. And some feel that it gives them a sense of purpose in life, like they have to fight to feel like living matters.”

 “Has Elmeth ever fought in the Pits?” Orion asked. He couldn’t imagine a sweet thing like Elmeth taking part in this savage sport, but beast formers were known for having an animalistic side to them that sometimes got out of control.

 “No. She detests the gladiator matches,” Megatron replied. “The only reason she comes here is to see me fight. Though, let me tell you this,” He leaned over to his friend. “Her beast mode is nothing to sniff at, even with one wing.”

 The other gladiator fell to his knees, and a Minicon, a tiny silver mech with a yellow visor, jumped up and slashed his energo-blade across the Bulk’s throat. He landed on the ground and showered in his opponent’s energon as the larger mech died on his knees. Even Megatron had to wince at how clean that kill was, and like the onlookers, began to clap for the resourceful Minicon. Small in body and in mercy.

 Orion sat in his seat, staring at the carnage blindly. He imagined what it would be like living here as a Tarnian-born citizen. He imagined growing up in a land where only the strong survive, and even then it doesn’t guarantee your survival, as all Sparks in the Badlands are seen as cheap under the greater authority. He wondered what it would be like to see the gladiator matches for the first time, then the second, third, fourth, and so on. The thrill of seeing two or more Cyberrtonians killing each other would slowly fie out. Sure there would be some deviations, like aerial battling and beast combat, but even the gory affair of gladiators fighting would ultimately become as monotonous as working in a factory.

 ‘Megatron and the rest of these people have seen death so many times that it’s desensitized them. They don’t even know how alike they are to the bots droning away in the outer cities.’ Orion thought. “Megatron, do you know what other races call us?”

 “Hmm?” Megatron turned his attention back to his friend. “Come again?”

 “Other races call us Autobots,” He said. “It’s a racial slur they developed for us. They see us as automatons who only do one job without question. They see us no different from the drones that we employ to do our daily tasks. Everything here, our jobs, our lies, It’s all just one damn circle going round and around without end until our Spark burns out. Even these gladiator matches are no different.” Orion motioned to the fight going on down below. “People fight, the losers die, the victors win, they return home, then crawl out to do it all over again. People go to these blood sports to escape the monotony of their lives, but instead they’re still entrapped in this endless cycle, no matter what they do. There’s just no escaping it.”

 Megatron looked at Orion with wide eyes as he processed what he just heard, and realized how accurate that sounded. He did admit that fighting in the Pits had lost its luster after winning every time, but this was certainly a unique way to see it. The Pits were no different from the rest of Cybertron. Like the caste system, it had no end and no beginning, it was just an endless cycle that was basically a violent form of stasis-different from mainstream society-but a form of living stasis nonetheless. The implications were a bit disturbing to the warrior.

 Orion noticed Megatron’s silence and had mistaken it for offense. “Megatron? What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

 “No, no, you didn’t offend me.” Megatron said. “You just made me think of something, that’s all…”

 He trailed off as he got lost in his thoughts and thought Orion wanted to inquire what he was thinking about, he figured it would be best to leave the revolutionary to his musings. They sat in silence for the rest of the matches, both mechs troubled by their newly realized positions in the grand web that was Cybertron.

XXXXXX

 “You’re an odd person, Orion Pax.” Elmeth commented.

 Orion looked at her perplexed. “Um, thank you? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 “Sorry, I meant you are strangely open-minded for an Iaconian.” She said. “Especially for a police officer.”

 They were walking through the crowded streets of Tarn’s industrial sector, where the gladiatorial matches were designated in secret. Here, hidden from the public eye, was an area designated only for gladiators. The warriors who survived their brutal lifestyle come to the undercity to work on their weapons, train, converse, or just relax.

 “Not everyone from Iacon is bad,” He said. “Many are kind people, like my friends.”

 “I know. It’s just…” he looked back at the stump that used to be her wing. “What happened to me, what I had to go through all those years ago, still rings in my mind. It haunts me whenever I think of Iacon.”

 Orion looked at her sadly. What it really that horrible for her? He knew that beast formers were treated slightly worse than bots from the disposable castes (which was really the bottom of the barrel), but he never seen anything that might imply that the beasts went through more than just dirty looks and harsh words. At least, not out in the open.

 “Would you like to visit Iacon some day?”

 “I doubt it. I’d be too afraid to go near that place after the attacks.” She said and smiled weakly. “I hear that Iacon is still in an uproar about the recent bombings.”

 “You could say that.”

 That was putting it lightly. Somehow, the information that the suspect was a beast former had gotten out (despite it being confidential) and as a result, many bots with beast modes were targeted and treated like terrorists. Orion and Dion had to break up several reported incidents that involved a beast former being attacked on the streets by people who thought they were doing “Primus’s work” by beating the poor citizen to the point of fade-out. Many more were brought in on accounts of “suspicious activity” and arrested without warrants. The top brass did nothing about it, Pax’s police captain Quickshadow couldn’t do much without being scrutinized by the higher authorities, and the Functionists fanned the flames by selling their rhetoric about the lack of beasts in their so-called orderly GCT. He knew it was only going to get worse from there.

 “I was very suspicious of you, Orion,” Elmeth continued. “When you messaged us, we were afraid that you might be some spy for the senate or, Primus forbid, the Functionists. I didn’t want Megatron to answer, but he insisted, saying that he had to set an example or something like that.”

 “Well, I’m glad he answered.” Orion said honestly.

 “I am to.”

 He looked at her and saw her smiling up at him. He felt his Spark pulsate a bit faster and cleared his throat. They walked through the heart of the black pyramid, where most of the spectators were placing their bets on upcoming matches. As they passed through the crowd, Orion spotted someone familiar in the throng of people.

 “Jazz?” Orion gaped. His silver armored friend was chatting with two other mechs; one was red and the other was yellow and black.

 “DO you know him?” Elmeth asked.

 “He’s one of my best friends. I never thought I’d see him here.” Orion said.

 “Tarnians aren’t the only ones who enjoy these sports. Neither are the bottom feeders in these castes.” She explained. “One of the things about getting free of caste is that you see the world for what it truly is. Sometimes that means seeing things were wish you didn’t see.”

 They left the pyramid and walked into the cold night air, out into Tarn’s night life. it was cold down in the sub-levels and very darks. Lights were positioned along the streets to keep people from walking around blind. Orion and Elmeth barely traveled up from the under level before someone called out to them.

 “Elmeth, fancy meeting you here!”

 Elmeth froze and slowly turned around. “Ember! What a surprise.”

 Orion saw Elmeth give the fakest smile he ever seen and looked at her supposed “friend”. The femme who spoke to them was a deep red with orange along her arms and legs. Her face was grey, with burnt orange eyes and red lips. The smooth crimson wings and the avian components on her body suggested an avian-based beast mode. Looking at her now, Orion could see why Elmeth would feel uneasy around her. Ember looked harmless enough, but there was something about her that set him on edge. She really felt like an animal-beautiful on the outside but capable of killing you in a heartbeat.

 “Orion, this is Ember,” Elmeth introduced. “She’s the person who got me into Tarn after I was exiled form Iacon.”

 “Pleased to meet you.” Ember bowed her head politely.

 “Likewise.” Orion said smoothly. Ember smirked.

 “This is quite a sight to see, Elmeth. You talking with another mech without Megatron around?” She laughed. “What would he say?”

 “It’s not like that.” Elmeth frowned. “I’m just showing Orion around. He’s the mech that Megatron was talking about.”

 “Iacon’s very own supercop, here in the underbelly of the Badlands,” Ember smiled and patted him on the shoulder. You’d better watch your back. The people here are very hostile to upper caste bots, especially mechs like you who take them in for a living.”

 “I’ll be sure to remember that. Thanks.”

 “Well, I better be going now.” Ember gave Elmeth a hug, which the silver femme returned reluctantly, and waved at them before heading her way.

 Ember strutted past them, and for a second-a brief second-Orion’s eyes locked with hers. Then she continued on her way as if nothing ever happened. Watching her go, Orion was reminded of why he needed to be on his guard in Tarn. Elmeth grabbed is hand and pulled him along.

 “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

XXXXXX

 Elmeth led him away from the more populated areas of the city, taking him through a series of back alleys and shortcuts, cutting the travel time to their unknown destination down considerably.

 “Who was she anyway?” Orion asked. “Ember. She looks high profile.”

 Ember is the leader of a religious sect here in the Badlands,” Elmeth said. “The Order. They’re really hush hush about what their group is about and how they operate.”

 “The Order?”

 “They worship their own set of gods, not Cybertronians ones, but goddesses who were made from stone. Their pantheon is large, but there are three chief deities that they speak to; Jubileus, Sheba and Qoun. Ember told me that they created our world, from Vector Sigma to the people who live on the planet. They created out Sparks, and when we die, our Sparks return to them. We are their children and they are our creators.”

 Orion waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Ember probably only told her as much as she could give. He never heard of this Order before, and he’s heard of most of Cybertron’s religious and revolutionary groups; the Triple M, Cybertropians, the Razors. All of them were high profile groups that spawned from religious or anti-government movements. These Order people were mysterious and that made them a bit unsettling. Ember seemed even more so. Like she was the type to watch the world burn and have a smile on her face.

 “Here we are.”

 They stood in front of a small building sitting between some abandoned smelting factories. It was small and looked like its construction was a rushed job, sporting mix-matched parts from different parts taken from other buildings. Despite looking a bit rundown, Orion noted that it had a bit of an ornate feel to it, made to be a bit fancier than the other buildings.

 Elmeth led him inside, pushing past the old, creaky doors to enter the surprisingly beautiful interior. The inside of the building was illuminated y a chandelier made of stained glass, bathing the area in a multicolored hue. There were six rows of benches on both sides of the room and at the front was a tall statue made of carbonized metal and onyx. Orion recognized it as a statue of Mortilus of the Guiding Hand.

 ‘Is this a church?’ Orion thought.

 “Megatron told me that you asked him if he believed in gods.” Elmeth said. “I assume that he said no?”

 He nodded. “Megatron said that he doesn’t put stock in things he can’t hear or see, much less mythical beings like the Thirteen Primes and the Guiding Hand.”

 “Yes, he would say something like that.” She smiled. “Megatron likes to be realistic. He doesn’t believe in old myths like the Thirteen or Primus because he thinks it blinds him to what is in front of him. He wants to see the world for what it is, not through the lens of gods or Primes.”

 Orion could relate to that. There was nothing wrong with religion, many found comfort in believing that there was a higher power somewhere watching over them. But sometimes, people let that blind them to reality, and let their beliefs cloud their thinking. He thought of the Triple M, how they tore out their own T-cogs in open rebellion of Adaptus, another god of the Guiding Hand. Then there were others who used the word of gods to commit heinous acts against others. Religion was a source of hope and peace for many, but for others, it only caused pain and suffering.

 “But that is not true,” She continued. “We do worship our own god. One who shadows the Badlands, watching over every smelter, every miner, every gladiator. You call him Mortilus, but we call him Death.”

 “You worship death?” He asked puzzled. Elmeth looked up at the statue.

 “When you live in the lower castes, no matter what occupation, you always worry about death. Death by falling into a smelting pool, death by leaking energy conduits, death by liquid nitrogen, death by faulty equipment,” She placed her hand on the gleaming monolith. “Death by the Pits. It matters not, for when we die, our Sparks belong to Mortilus-he who birthed death.”

 “That’s a rather…interesting way of looking at things.”

 She giggled. “You don’t have to pretend to like it, Orion. I understand that it’s a rather grim way to view our lives, but that’s how it is in Tarn. And Kaon. And Styx. Do you believe in gods, Orion?”

 “I...don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just live in the moment. My life is a bit too hectic to really care about religion.”

 “But that is precisely why you should care.” Elmeth walked up to him until she was only a few inches apart from him. “Having something to believe in, be it a god or a role model, or even a cause. That is what gives many people a reason to live. It’s what keeps Megatron going, what draws so many people to him. What drew you to him. Because you wanted to live in a world where you could truly be alive, instead of just living. But I know you are not just a follower, you’re a leader too. So what do you want in life?”

 Orion looked down at the femme who made him beyond speechless. Here in the shadow of Mortilus, under the myriad colors of the sparkling glass above, she looked like some mythical Predacon from ancient times. Orion knew at that moment why Megatron held so close to him with such high regard-she was beautiful. Not just in body but in mind as well. Where did she come from to have such purity in this god forsaken world?

 “I…” He tried to speak, but she placed a finger on his lips.

 “No, I want you to think about this. It’s not something you can just decide on a whim.” Elmeth smiled, ruby eyes shining. “But when you do find something worth fighting for, you will know. And when that time comes, only then will you be truly alive.”

XXXXXX

 The sons and daughters of Cybertron. That was what Nightshade called their group. They weren’t some rag tag army or complex organization, they were just a network of like minded bots with nothing to lose. The fabled Sons of Cybertron were divided into separate teams, each with their own method of rebelling against the corruption that consumed Cybertron’s society. With their small numbers, they couldn’t deal significant damage to the senate, or rally a fighting force of revolutionaries, but Nightshade utilized her group as a strike team of sorts that could hit hard and fast. Shadowkat was no one special save for her powers, but she felt like someone who mattered when Nightshade addressed her, along with everyone else, as the people who will liberate Cybertron.

 They made their base of operations in a repurposed pumping station inside the transportation tube that ran under the abandoned town they inhabited. Thanks to one of their members, Forge, they managed to bring in modern consoles and power supplies to help coordinate their efforts.

 Right now, Nightshade had them all assemble for their next operation-one that she said was going to be dangerous. The room was bathed in the neon glow of infographics and strip-lighting.

 “This is our target.”

 Nightshade gestured to a blue-green schematic projected onto one of the cracked walls. The diagram showed a large round sphere with a large white circle in the middle. The sphere was rigid and bumpy, looking more like a golden spherical jig-saw puzzle. Shadowkat realized that this thing looked like a giant T-cog.

 “This is the Cog.”

 Shadowkat looked around at her six companions and waited a moment to see if anyone would say what needed to be said. “T-the Cog?”

 “Yes. The Functionist’s base of operations. Here the Functionist council makes their laws and send out their lap dogs to enforce them. Here, we will strike and bring them down.”

 Shadowkat, Blackbeetle and even the Stunticons were shocked speechless at the news. Obviously Nightshade hadn’t told them the whole plan only that their target was going to be something big. But they didn’t think that they were going to hit such a major target.

 “Ahem, Nightshade,” Motormaster said cordially. “May I inquire as to why we are attacking the Functionists’ headquarters?”

 “You may,” She said coolly. “To put it simply-something big is going down. My contacts in the provisional government tell me that there has been a lot of friction between the Functionists and the senate. I don’t know what’s going on, but you can bet you tailpipe that it’s going to happen soon.”

 “So that’s why they were splitting up their forces. They want to protect their ground facilities from any acts of supposed sabotage by the senate’s lap dogs.” Blackbeelte observed. “This is why you’re striking now. That’s a sound strategy, but we still have to fight through the forces on board the Cog and that won’t be easy.”

 “I’ve already planned for that.” Nightshade notioned to Dead End. “Once we get inside, Dead End, our resident arsonist, will plant plasma density charges along the interior of the Cog’s inner halls and cargo hold. Preferably in key areas where the large battalions need to travel through in order to mobilize.”

 “I can do all of that in less than a Spark pulse.” Dead End grinned.

 “Plasma density charges.” Shadowkat muttered. “How did-“

 “Swindle,” Blackbeetle answered. “He’s a glitchead, but the guy knows where his priorities lie and has been supplying us since day one. He’s even given us a discount on the weapons we’re using for the mission. “Then she jerked her head at Forge. “With a few modifications from Forge.”

 Nightshade looked at her assembled team. The bots she had chosen to go into hell itself for the good of the free world. “I won’t lie; this is probably the most dangerous mission we’ve ever had. We will be fighting an army and if we do succeed in assassinating the council, there is no chance that we will get out alive. I thank you all for putting your lives on the line to bring down the regime, whether your reasons were noble or not. But if you want to back out, now is the time. No one will blame you if you run.”

 They glanced at each other as silent confirmation that they wanted to stay. Blackbeetle looked down at Shadowkat, who looked terrified, but didn’t back out. She clasped her hand into the smaller femme’s and the beast former calmed down somewhat. Seeing that everyone was in, Nightshade nodded in silent appreciation at their dedication to the cause.

 “We move out at dawn. That is all.”

XXXXXX

 The Cog presided over the landscape of Kalis for miles around. The spherical base was mobile, always hanging above the planet and slowly drifting through the air like an ever present shadow of death. It never landed-probably due to the Functionists’ need to remain above those lower beings, even the senate and the Prime-held aloft by some seemingly infinite power source. But just because it flew, doesn’t mean that it didn’t require supplies.

 Nightshade and the rest of the team sat inside the armored convoy they stole from the Enforcers they slaughtered. Soundwave was controlling the vehicle via remote control. As instructed, all members were keeping their sensory apparatus and energon signatures as low as possible. Forge’s specially designed jamming devices masked their signals but it paid to be careful.

 The Cog had stopped just a few miles outside of Kalis, where a line of transportation vehicles were slowly approaching the floating facility. This was how the Cog got its daily supplies, convoys carrying containers with bare essentials would sit under the base’s tractor beam, which would only lift up the containers.

 Shadowkat was praying to Primus and the rest of the Guiding Hand, along with the Primes as she tried to stop herself from shaking. Blackbeetle had her hand, which she was clutching tightly.

 The cargon was lifted up into the storage area at the bottom of the Cog, where they stored the containers. Once inside, the tractor beam cut off and the hatch closed shut. When it was fully sealed, and the cargo bay was only illuminated by a dim light, Soundwave did a quick audio scan of the area.

 “I hear no one. We are clear.” Soundwave said.

 Shadowkat took his arm and they phased through the metal crate. Soundwave’s chest compartment opened up and out flew a data slug that transformed into a red and black Minicon.

 “Laserbeak, disable the surveillance monitors.” The mech ordered.

 Laserbeak took to the air and stealthily disabled any security cameras and jammed hidden scanning equipment. Once that was done, Shadowkat phased the rest of the crew out of the crate and Nightshade initiated phase 2 of their plan.

 “We split up into two groups. I will lead Team A to the center of the Cog once Soundwave has located the Councilors,” She said. “Shadowkat, Forge, Blackbeetle, you’re with me.”

 “Oh joy.” Forge, a lanky green mech who acted as the team’s tech head, grunted. Blackbeetle slugged him in the shoulder.

 “Motormaster, we’re counting on your Stunticons to cause as much noise as possible. Get their attention and lay it into them.”

 Motomaster grinned. “We can do that, Nightshade.”

 She turned to Dead End. “I’m loathed to say this, but if things go south, detonate any phase charges you’ve planted and bring this place down. We’ll need an immediate exfil once the deed is done.”

 “Yes ma’am.” Dead End nodded.

 “You’ve all got your own exit plans to fall back on if things don’t go as planned. Stay close and stay strong.” Nightshade said and cocked her assault rifle. “Now let’s go tear down the walls of paradise.”

XXXXXX

 And so they split up. In comparison to Team A, the Stunticons had the easier job of catching the attention of the militia protecting the Cog in the bottom and middle levels. As soon as they exited the cargo bay, Motormaster opened fire on a poor security guard just two days away from leave. When Dead End tossed a shock grenade and torched three other soldiers, things heated up and the whole facility knew they were there.

 A platoon of Enforcers came running down the halls as the alarms rang out, their black armor contrasting sharply against the stark white walls of the Cog. Motormaster grinned savagely and fashioned his sword as the Enforcers were gunned down by ballistics and energy fire as soon as they turned the corner. The fools weren’t even smart enough to take a peek around the corner before charging in. they were so relaxed in the safety of their Cog that they forgot the basic rules of combat. Oh well, it certainly made his job easier.

 “Come at me!” Motormaster roared, charging forward and swinging his sword, cutting three mechs in half with a single swing. He punched another Enforcer in the head, crushing his skull and cut another length wise in half. “Show me that so-called power you people hold in such high regard!”

 Drag Strip groaned as he shot a mech in the head and beheaded another one with his axe. “Boss, seriously that heroic barbarian thing is getting old. Lose it!”

 “Never! These savages shall taste the blade of justice!” Motormaster laughed and mowed down the Enforcer in his way. They shot at him with blaster rifles and rocket launchers, but they did little damage to his dense armor, which had been molecularly enhanced over the last few months by Forge.

 “True justice?” A deep voice snorted. “What a joke.”

 Motormaster was hit by an orange beam that sent him flying forward into a group of Enforcers. He hit his head on the wall at the end of the corridor, and growled angrily. The blast only did superficial damage, but his pride was hurt as he glared at his attacker.

 “Who dares strike me from behind like a coward?” He snarled, yellow eyes flashing.

 He got his answer as the mech who shot him stood at the front of the assault team. He was tall, as tall as Motormaster, and just as bulky. He was black and orange, with broad shoulders and heavily armored legs, with glowing tangerine power lines running up his torso and arms, curing around his forearms and legs like some kind of obscene tattoo. But his most unsettling feature was his face-he had no facial features, no eyes, mouth, nose, nothing. Just a smooth metal plate that was blacker than Motormaster’s heart.

 “I am Obliteration of the Functionist Council,” The faceless mech announced, his body emitting an orange glow. “And in the name of Primus, I will fight all who dare go against the Divine Plan. Prepare to die like the animal you are!”

XXXXXX

 Nightshade’s team ran through the corridor on the Cog’s third level. Nightshade and Soundwave took the lead, with Blackbeetle in the rear and Forge and Shadowkat in the middle. They made short work of any guards in their way, not even stopping as they gunned their enemies down and ran over their mangled, smoking bodies. Thanks to Soundwave’s downloaded schematics of the facility, they knew where to go.

 The Cog was divided into four levels; the first is the cargo and storage vault where supplies were stored, the second is the barracks and training area, the third is the security level and the fourth was the atrium where the Functionist Council assembled. Soundwave was their guard, and if anything happened to him, they would be running blind in a den of wolves.

 ‘We’re so close,’ Nightshade thought. ‘All we need to do is follow the plan and we might deal a blow to the tyrants destroying our world.’

 “ _Nightshade, com in!”_ Wildrider’s voice shouted from the comm.

 “Wildrider, I’m here. Did Dead End and Breakdown plant the charges?” She asked.

 “ _We’re still working on that. But we’ve run into a problem.”_

‘Please, not now.’ She thought. “What kind of problem?”

 “ _We just got attacked by this guy named Obliteration. He says he’s a member of the Functionist Council!”_ Wildrider said. “ _And this guy’s an outlier!”_

Nightshade stopped in her tracks, making Shadowkat phase through her by accident. “What did you say?”

 “ _He’s an outlier. The guy is shooting plasma beams everywhere and he’s fighting Motormaster. I don’t know what this guy is on, but every time we shoot at him, it’s like he’s getting stronger!”_

That was impossible. The Functionists lead witch hunts on outliers without mercy. They started the whole tradition of outlawing outliers on the condition that they went against the natural order of the world, against Primus’ Grand Plan. So why the hell was one not only living on this ship but also a member of the council? Something didn’t add up here.

 “Nightshade?”

Nightshade turned to her team. Shadowkat stared at her, fear evident in her eyes. “What should we do?”

 “We keep going.” Nightshade said without hesitation. She wasn’t going to give up the mission now, not when they were close to taking out the bastards that ruined her life. “As long as we stay on course, nothing will go wrong.”

 Forge looked behind them and sucked in a breath. “Um, did anyone tell that guy that?”

 He pointed down the hall where they just came from. A mech stood at the end of the hall, blocking their only way back. He was tall and skinny, and his body was slender with black armor and wire thin limbs. Like Obliteration, he had no face, just a blank screen that had no facial features.

 Blackbeetle pointed her cannons at the newcomer. “Who the hell are you?”

 The mech stared at them for a minute before speaking in a gravely, low voice. “Nightwielder, the eyes and ears of the master race. And your executioner.”

The team aside from Nightshade and Soundwave jumped when two black tendrils shot up from Nightwielder’s shadow and stabbed into the ceiling, destroying the lights. Black smoke started to leak from his form and he slowly walked towards the intruders, and another light went dark in front of him. Nightshade immediately caught on to what he was doing and knew they had to leave.

 “Move it!” She shouted.

 Nightwielder let out a chilling cry and the hall started to come apart, panels torn from the walls and floor by shadows and ran down the hallway. The lights died as he ran, and more shadows followed after him like some ghoulish parade, snaking closer and closer to the rebels. Once they reached the end of the hall, they made a hard left, but not before the outlier threw a javelin made of shadows at them. Blackbeetle was nearly stabbed by the lance had Soundwave not pulled her back, but Forge wasn’t so lucky.

 “Guh!” Forge gargled as the javelin stabbed through the back of his neck and out his vocal synthesizer as it tore through his body and impaled the wall. He fell to his knees in pain and was left at the mercy of the rabid outlier.

 “Forge!” Shadowkat cried out and screamed as she saw his body get torn to pieces in a gory shower of energon as the shadows decapitated him.

 “Keep running!” Blackbeetle yelled.

 They made it to the elevator and ran inside. Soundwave hacked the doors and closed them shut just as Nightwielder came around the corner. When they knew they were safe for the moment, Shadowkat leaned against the wall and shook her head.

 “What was that?” She whimpered.

 “An outlier,” Nightshade hissed. “Another fragging outlier, here, in a place where they are brought to be killed!”

 “So was the senate lying about all that stuff about outliers being evil? I thought they were hunted down and killed on the spot.” Blackbeetle said.

 “Those morons in the senate couldn’t tell their aft from their actuator. This is all the functionists’ doing! They’re the ones behind this!” Nightshade growled. “We’re going to get some answers before we butcher the council, mark my words!”

 The elevator reached the top level of the Cog and the doors opened. Nightshade and Soundwave ran out and pointed their weapons into the dark chamber. They were on the Cog’s fourth level-the Atrium. It was the smallest level in the Cog, but it was also the fanciest. It looked very similar to the interior of the Citadel’s chamber where the senator’s meet, with thirteen chairs sitting on a higher level and positioned in a circle.

 “Weapons ready, people,” Nightshade ordered. “Be on your guard. There’s no telling what we might find here.”

 “How very true my dear,” A femme’s jovial voice remarked from nowhere. “Life is always full of surprises, but you folly is thinking that you can handle them all.”

 The floor in the center of the atrium opened up and two figures arose on a platform. They were Cybertronians, both of them femmes and sported ornate sigils on their chests and foreheads-sigils from the ancient language of the Primal Dynasty. The first femme was tall and strong looking and looked like her very form was forged from the sun’s rays. She was bright gold with red around the forearms and legs, and had a headpiece around her face that looked like a stylized representation of the sun with her face in the middle. Her partner was smaller, around Shadowkat’s height, bright orange and sporting a streamlined form that hinted at a speed-based ground alt-mode. Both femmes had no faces, just like Obliteration and Nightwielder, just a smooth faceplate that reflected the rebels standing before them.

 “Let me guess,” Nightshade spat. “You’re another member of the Functionist council?”

 “Why, yes we are! You’re very smart for a beast.” The golden femme nodded. “I am Steelheart, head of the Functionist council and this is my subordinate Firefight, another member. Welcome to our home away from home, the palace that lies at the boundaries between heaven and Cybertron.  How do you like the place?”

 “It’s nice, very spacious, if a bit ostentatious,” Blackbeetle said. “Could’ve gone without almost getting skewered by that psycho downstairs.”

 “Nightwielder is the head of security here in the Cog. You’ll have to forgive him, he takes his job very seriously, and seeing you all here uninvited has made him a bit cross.”

 “How’s this for cross?” Blackbeetle fired a missile from her horns at Steelheart, who just stood there smiling. The missiles almost reached the femme but exploded against an invisible wall just a foot away from her. When the others looked at her, she shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure.”

 Nightshade glared up at Steelheart through the smoke. “So you’re an outlier to.”

 “Of course I am, animal. All members of the council and high ranking Enforcers are outliers.” Steelheart said pleasantly.

 “That is illogical. Functionist creed states that outliers have no place in the GCT. They are lower than beasts and must be killed to ensure the order that Primus has planned.” Soundwave said. He tried to probe her mind for her thoughts, but was surprised to find that Steelheart’s mind was heavily defended, as is Firefight’s.

 “That’s only one part of our recruitment brochure, the part that the public knows about. Mostly fashioned by the senate.” Steelheart’s tone grew a bit cold at the mention of the government, and Nightshade realized that her suspicions about the friction between the senate and Functionists were confirmed. “Yes we hunt down outliers under the pretext of maintain the GCT, but it’s only to help them find their place in the world. Why do you think that outliers are born with powers like ours, hmm? There is a reason for that.” Steelheart spread her arms out wide and stared up at the bright light shining down on her. “We were chosen by Primus to rule over the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy.  We are God’s children, the genetically elite, and rivaled by none, not even those point one percenters.”

 “Good lord,” Shadowkat gasped in horror. “You hunt us down so you can enslave us?”

 “Enslave is such a broad term. I’m just making sure that you all have your rightful place as the rulers of Cybertron. What else could you want?”

 “I can list a few things.” Blackbeetle muttered.

 “And what happens to the ones who don’t want you indentured servitude?” Nightshade asked.

 Steelheart discreetly glanced at Firefight, whose screen-face began to glow orange. “I think you can fill in the blanks. But let me show you an example.”

 Blackbeetle felt a heat coming from her chest and she looked down to see a small point of armor smoking and heating up. “What the-“

 Time slowed down for both Shadowkat and Nightshade as Blackbeetle’s chest exploded in a plume of flames. She didn’t even register what happened as a hole was blown into her chest, destroying her Spark core and killing her instantly. Her lover watched her body fall to the floor in horror.

 “Blackbeetle!”

XXXXXX

 Motormaster slashed his sword at Obliteration, but the outlier dodged and he ended up cutting a poor soldier in two from head to waist. Obliteration spun around and punched the Stunticon leader in the face, sending him skidding back a few feet. Motormaster spat out some energon and grinned.

 “Is that the best you got?” He asked cheekily.

 “No.”

 Obliteration fired a blast of plasma from his hands and hit Motormaster in the middle of his chest. Though he didn’t suffer any fatal damage, he was sent flying along the length of the hall and crashing into Breakdown, sending them both through the window of the training area. Breakdown was nearly crushed by Motormaster’s weight as his leader hit a stack of training equipment . Obliteration charged through the Stunticon barricade backhanding Drag Strip as he jumped through the window and kicked Breakdown out of the way.

 “Slag!” Drag Strip gripped his aching head and got to his knees. He picked up his triple barreled rocket launcher and fired two rockets at a bruiser that was advancing on them. “The boss is in trouble!”

 “I can see that but we’re preoccupied!” Wildrider said, glancing back at his boss. Motormaster and Obliteration were engaged in a fist fight now, and each punch they threw sent a loud clang throughout the area. They looked evenly matched, but it was clear that Obliteration was in much better shape than Motormaster for some reason. “Dead End, are the charges set?”

 “Give me a few nano-kliks!” Dead End said. He was busy hooking up a network of plasma density charges, one of the strongest bombs out there, to a remote network that would allow them to be detonated remotely. It was taking longer than he thought seeing as he had to make sure that each charge was placed at the same distance from each other in key areas for maximum damage. “I just need more time.”

 “We don’t have time!” Breakdown shouted. He flinched as he saw Obliteration smashed a hammer over Motormaster’s head. “Frag it, someone toss me a grenade!”

 Drag strip unclipped two variable grenades and tossed them over to Breakdown, who caught them and ran over to the fighting mechs.

 Motormaster felt his body ache as he took punch after bone crushing punch from Obliteration. Each blow was augmented by that energy Obliteration controlled, so they hurt twice as much, but he wasn’t known for being resilient for nothing. He grabbed Obliteration’s arm and twisted it behind his back, pulling as hard as he could to dislocate the limb. Obliteration grunted at the strain on his arm and started to radiate energy from his body. He built up the energy and then released it in an explosive wave that blasted Motormaster off him and into the wall. He charged at him, but Motormaster rolled away from his oncoming knee and slammed Obliteration’s head into the wall.

 “Boss!”

 Motormaster caught two grenades thrown at him from Breakdown and gave him subordinate a grin as he turned back to Obliteration. The orange mech was pulling his head out of the wall, and as soon as he faced Motormaster, one of the grenades was thrown at him. Obliteration found his entire body frozen in place, and his systems shorting out as the EMP grenade jumbled his internal systems on contact. His movements were jerky and out of control, and this left him open to the lethal grenade that was also tossed at him. Motormaster and Breakdown were relieved to see the powerful outlier engulfed in a large explosion that nearly blew them back.

 “Yes! Good show Breakdown!” Motormaster said.

 “Thanks boss, now let’s-huh?”

 They looked at the explosion and saw the flames start to swirl around in the air as it was being absorbed into something. Soon Obliteration’s body came into view, completely unharmed, and was sucking the flames into his body. Obliteration had absorbed not only the flames but also the explosive force of the detonation, and his body looked like it was radiating power.

 “Damn it all!” Motormaster roared and threw a punch at Obliteration. But he was surprised to see the mech catch his large fist in his hand and squeeze it until the hand was broken. “Gah!”

 “Do you understand now?” Obliteration asked, staring down at Motormaster with his blank face. “Fighting against one of the superior race is futile. Surrender or you will face even more pain.”

 “Go to hell!” Breakdown came at Obliteration from behind, stabbing a vibroblade into his back.

 Obliteration let out a pained grunt and let go of Motormaster’s broken hand. With the same hand he broke the Stunticon leader’s hand he slammed his fist into Breakdown’s face, sending the mech into the ground. Motormaster pulled the blade from his back and stabbed it into his shoulder, and Obliteration grabbed him by the neck. Then he started punching Motormaster repeatedly, not letting up even as energon spilled from his face.

 “We’re out of time!” Wildrider Shouted. “Dead End, please tell me-“

 “It’s done!” Dead End held up the remote. “All the charges are planted.”

 “Then blow them up.” Drag Strip ordered. Dead End’s eyes widened.

 “But-“

 “Just do it!”

 Dead End hesitated but knew that things weren’t going their way. He closed his eyes and pressed the button. This was going to be loud.

XXXXXX

 Nightshade stared at Blackbeetle’s motionless body. Her torso had a hoe blown right through and her eyes were dark, meaning that her Spark had extinguished. Shadowkat stood over her body weeping tears she couldn’t shed. Looking at them both now filled Nightshade with a bestial rage she hadn’t felt since losing Damus.

 “That’s our answer to outliers who refuse out generous offer.” Steelheart said. “Can’t let our secret getting out, can we?”

 “Go to hell!”Nightshade formed her bow and fired three arrows at Steelheart.

 Steelheart didn’t try to move as the arrows hit her barrier, but she wasn’t expecting Firefight to be assault by a volley of concussion blasts that hit the platform under them. Soundwave powered up his particle cannon and unleashed a blast at Firefight, forcing her to dodge and deflect the beams with her flames.

 Nightshade flew at Steelheart, splitting her bow into swords and tried to gut the femme. Steelheart proved to be more agile than she looked, dodging and weaving through her strikes and even deflecting them with her arms. She kicked away Nightshade’s right arm and gave a spin-kick to Nightshade’s face, making her stumble back. Steelheart sent a bolt of energy at her that she ducked under and swung her sword, only to have Steelheart catch the blade in her hands.

 “You are a stellar-cycle too late to fight me!” Steelheart hissed before she snapped the blade in two and sent an energy encased punch at Nightshade’s face. The blow sent her falling back, but Steelheart grabbed her arms and threw her over her shoulder into the floor.

 Soundwave continued to lay down suppressive fire at Firefight, but it was clear that his surprise attack was starting to wear off. He fired a few rockets from his rocket launcher, but they exploded half way to their target when they touched Firefight’s heat wave. Her face was glowing and the air around her was shimmering from the intense heat waves rolling off her body. Firefight waved her hand and a plume of flames exploded in front of Soundwave, forcing him to jump back. He leapt to the side to avoid a large fireball that was shot at him, but Firefight lunged at him through the flames and grabbed his throat.

 “Soundwave!” Nightshade exclaimed.

 Firefight tightened her grip on Soundwave’s neck and increased the temperature in her hand. Soundwave could feel the heat start to rise and knew that if he didn’t gain some distance, her hand could become hot enough to melt into his armor and kill him. But neither of them were expecting a pair of hands to take hold of Soundwave and pull him back, phasing him through Firefight’s grip.

 “What?” Firefight was taken off guard by the sudden escape and that’s all Shadowkat needed.

 She phased through Soundwave and lunged at Firefight with a save snarl on her petite face. Firefight bathed her body in red hot flames that melted the floor beneath her, but Shadowkat’s intangibility kept her from being incinerated. The feline femme punched her hand into Firefight’s chest, phasing through the armor so that she could grab hold of her Spark core. Firefight flinched in pain as Shadowkat glared into her face.

 “This is for Blackbeetle!”

 Shadowkat tore out Firefight’s Spark, phasing it out along with her hand in a clean kill and no visible damage on the Functionist council member. Firefight stood in place, her movements slowing down and the intense flames flickering off her body dying out as her screen face went dark. Shadowkat watched her body tumble to the ground lifelessly and tightened her claws around the Spark core in her hand and threw it to the ground.

 “Amazing! An outlier with the power of intangibility,” Steelheart laughed merrily. “You would’ve made a lovely addition to my inner circle, but I take it that you’re not all that interested.”

 Shadowkat transformed to beast mode and roared, lunging at Steelheart, teeth bared. To her surprise, Steelheart caught her in the air and held her back. Shadowkat tried to phase out of her grip, but she couldn’t use her powers.

 “You’re not the first one to go intangible on me, you know. I’ve developed counter-measures against people like you,” Steelheart hissed, squeezing her fingers around Shadowkat’s neck. “Like using my energy to disrupt your dispersed molecules. Rather clever of myself to think of that solution.”

“Go..to..hell…!” Shadowkat snarled. Steelheart tightened her grip on the femme.

 “Now that’s not nice. First you break into my home, kill one of my soldiers-my crusaders, then you insult me verbally? You know I can’t let this slide.” Her voice lost its mirth and grew cold. “If you miss your lover so bad then why don’t you join her in the Allspark!”

 Nightshade grabbed the discarded Spark core and threw it at Steelheart, and Soundwave followed up by shooting a blast from his concussion rifle. It was common knowledge that Sparks were spheres of highly volatile energy. It was said that standing near newborn Sparks when the first flash was highly dangerous, as it caused those near them to suffer from the radiation that would slowly killed them. Shooting an exposed Spark would cause it to explode with enough force to destroy half of a starship.

 Steelheart took the full force of this explosion when the Spark close to her was hit by the concussion blast. Shadowkat was released and blasted away when Steelheart was engulfed by the explosion, bathing her in blue flames and destroying almost half of the Atrium. Shadowkat ran over to Blackbeetle’s body as Nightshade and Soundwave joined her.

 Nightshade wasn’t surprised to see Steelheart floating over the hole blown into the chamber, golden energy crackling around her form and her body sporting serious burns along the left side of her body. They couldn’t see her face, but they knew she was angry.

 “You’re a persistent bunch, aren’t you?” Steelheart growled and charged up her energy. “But that only thing you’ve accomplished is giving yourself a quick death!”

 Just as Steelheart was about to vaporize them, there was a deafening boom and Steelheart was forced to fly back to avoid the massive pillar of fire that erupted from the floor. Nightshade was happy to see the Stunticons had done their part and detonated the phase charges. She knew that the Cog was going to make a crash landing and she did not want to be here when it did. She looked over at Soundwave, then at Shadowkat, who was standing protectively over Blackbeetle’s body.

 “You!” Steelheart snarled. “What did you do?”

 “I only gave the Cog the disrespect it deserved.” Nightshade smirked. “Shadowkat, now!”

 Shadowkat used her powers to make the four of them intangible and they phased through the floor. Steelheart lashed out with an energy bolt the destroyed the rest of the chamber but missed them.

 “Those hellspawn! How dare they-“ Steelheart stopped herself and took a deep breath. “Nevermind, I will hunt them down myself. They can’t run forever.” She called one of the other council members. “Limelight, what’s the situation?”

 “ _Three of the anti-grav generators have been destroyed_!” Limelight said. “ _I can’t keep the Cog in the air.”_

 “Initiate a controlled crash, try to avoid as much damage to the Cog as possible.”

 “ _But what about Kalis? It’s in our flight path.”_

Steelheart gave an uncaring snort. “Pin it on the terrorists. I have more pressing concerns than the lives of mortals.”

XXXXXX

 The Cog’s descent was fast, but not pretty. Without the power generated by its real source-the outlier Limelight-if fell to the planet like a meteor. It crashed along the outskirts of Kalis, smashing through buildings and tearing up the crowded streets, killing thousands of people. The impact alone was heavy enough to be felt all the way to Altihex. Fortunately the giant sphere skidded to a stop near the city-square. The death toll was incredible.

 Miles away from the city, Nightshade watched the Cog crash. She was nursing a cut on her right shoulder, and had a limp, but was otherwise unharmed. She had no idea what happened to the Stunticons, but she hoped that they made it out as well. Still, it didn’t change the fact that the mission was a failure and two of their own had died.

 “Nightshade,” Soundwave walked over to her, sporting some damages from his fight with Firefight. Some of the armor around his hands and armor were warped from her flames. “Are you all right?”

 Nightshade didn’t answer at once. She looked over at Shadowkat. The small femme was in beast mode, nuzzling Blackbeetle’s head in sorrow. When the grief became too much to bare, she let out an anguished howl.

 “No Soundwave,” Nightshade whispered. “I’m not all right.”

 Shadowkat continued to howl her sadness into the darkening sky, for all to hear.

 

 

 

 


	8. Elegant Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out the official Transformers Titan website. Link is in my profile.

Chapter 8-Elegant Chaos

News of the Cog’s crash landing spread like wildfire. The home base of the mighty Functionist council, long thought to be untouchable, was attacked and sabotaged by a clandestine revolutionary group (terrorists in the eyes of the senate), who did the impossible and boarded the Cog itself. And to make the story even more unbelievable was that one of the council members was killed in the siege. Whispers of the attack spread from Iacon to Yuss, and thousands of lower caste bots that either hated the Functionists or were persecuted by them let out a collective cheer.

 Their legendary Dark Bird had struck again, and this time she and done what many have only dreamed of doing-damaging the supposedly unbreakable pride of the Functionists.

 Unknown to the populace at large, this event had spurred those within the senate to start moving their own plans forward. There were those in the government who detested the Functionist council for many centuries, how the council had taken so much power and influence for themselves and did their best to upend the senate’s authority at every turn.  And many within the military hated how they thought of themselves as above regular Cybertronians. So plans were made to remove the focal point of the Functionists’ power and influence in the senate-Nominus Prime. This destructive attack on the Functionists was a sure enough sign that things were going to change.

 As she sat in her penthouse in Kaon’s upper echelons, Ember knew that things were going to kick off very soon. Sipping on some Vistriol, she watched the news coverage of the Cog’s crash landing into Kalis, tearing a destructive path deep into the city that caused untold amounts of collateral damage and killed hundreds of thousands of bots in the process. The Functionists wouldn’t be held accountable for the damages, of course, but the spark has erupted into flames. Their hold over the populace has been weakened and now those Scraplets in the senate were moving in for the kill.

 She had never thought that she’d have this much fun watching the world slowly devolve into a savagery not seen since the era of the warring tribes. But Ember knew that even without her influence, Cybertron was already on the road to decay.

 “Ember,” A small red and orange Minicon entered the room. He bore a striking resemblance to Sentinel of Civil Defense. “The others are waiting for your word.”

 “Good. Is everything in position, Infinitus?” Ember asked.

 “Yes, preparations are complete.

 “The let’s get this party started.” Ember got up from her seat and walked to the window, where a collection of monitors showing various locations on Cybertron. “Come, Ininfitus. Stay with me as we watch Cybertron burn.”

XXXXXX

 The DataNet would later report, after detailed analysis of disruptions in the Grid, that a string of synchronized explosions that ripped through Uraya, Polyhex, Stanix, Styx, and several sites in the sonic canyons, each event occurring less than a day apart.

 Some of these explosions were caused by terrorists who were preaching quotes from Megarton’s essays. Though there are no evidence of sabotage, it worried the senate that such a coordinated attack was even possible under their “diligent” eye. Nominus Prime was also concerned, but for different reasons.

 The attack on the Cog was a clear message that the Functionists were losing their power and influence. He was worried that whoever infiltrated the Cog would learn of his intimate connection with the Functionist council. That was information he did not want getting out. But while Nominus was so concerned with keeping the demons out, he failed to notice the demons already creeping behind him.

XXXXXX

 In Tarn, the news of the terrorists bombings spread quickly, and many of the bots in the lower castes were actually cheering at the chaos that was erupting in and outside the Badlands. It was about time that the upper castes, who for so long treated them worse than the dirt at the bottom of their feet, got their devils due, and the Functionists were getting their fair share of slag to! Dark-Bird, who was deemed a terrorist and anti-government radical, was a hero of the poor and unjust.

 But Megatron wasn’t as ecstatic. Sure he was glad that the Legislator organization was taking a hard blow, but the bombings-they made him uneasy. Having suicide bombers chant your name while they kill themselves and as many people as possible doesn’t bode well for you when you’re preaching non-violent protest. Hearing that more of these attacks were being done in his name was starting to weigh on his conscious.

 Elmeth noticed his worsening attitude and had a talk with Megatron after one of his matches. The silver mech was sitting at the table, staring at a blank datapad in front of him. He hadn’t touched it in almost an hour. She brought up a chair and sat next to him.

 “Megatron,” She said. “Are you feeling okay?”

 “I’m fine, Elemth, I’m just suffering from some writer’s block.” He replied.

 Elmeth looked at the blank datapad. “That’s a first. Are you worried about the bombings?”

 “In a way,” He said. “I may preach retaliation against the senate and the caste system, but I didn’t mean it by declaring war. Having them yell out my name isn’t yelling enforce my ideals.”

 “Then tell them to top.” She suggested.

 “Elmeth, they heed my words, not me personally. They won’t listen to me, if anything, just me talking to them might encourage their actions.”

 “If that’s what you think then maybe you should stop writing your essays and your speeches,” Elmeth frowned, looking at him sternly. “You can’t back out, because if you do that then everything we and they have done will be for nothing.”

 She grunted and rolled her shoulder. She almost ran her fingers along the thin line of her stump of a wing, but refrained from doing it.”

 “Does it still hurt?” Megatron asked. “You could have it rebuilt you know. You wing.”

 “Reconstruction surgery is expensive, and only a handful of middle caste bots know how to do it, none of them living in the Badlands.” She sighed, and slightly moved her small wing. “The functionists put a price on everything, and the moment you start to take more than you give-the moment you become a burden-thy turn their back on you.”

 “I decide what I am worth. Not the functionists or the senate or anyone else who presumes to sit above me.” Megatron strongly said. Elmeth placed her hand on his.

 “I know Megatron, I know. But the Functionists are strong and the senate may prove stronger still. And it is the strong, not the weak, who shape the world.” Her red eyes stared directly into his as she said this. “And that is why, if words aren’t enough to change the system, you may have to force the issue.”

 “Elmeth…”

 “You have two weapons at your disposal: your brain and your fists. You must be prepared to use both.”

 “Me personally? No, I-we discussed this. My job is-“

 “To articulate the injustice at the heart of the system in the hope that others might be inspired as one to push against it.” She nodded. “You’ve told me often enough.”

 “I’m not a figurehead.”

 “But you may yet become one-and that’s why you need to listen to me. Never back down. Never compromise. Never bend. The moment you try to accommodate a rival set of interests, you subordinate your own.” She went on. “When your enemies realize they can’t corrupt you or contain you or appease you…that’s when you’ll have their attention-because that’s when you become a genuine threat.”

 “You’re focusing too much on the power of the individual. Lasting power rests with the collective.” Megatron said.

 “Of course-but the masses need someone to rally behind, someone to take point. And even after that, even after you’ve forced the world to be fair…the top table is only set for one. You must be prepared to sit alone.” Elemth said passionately. Megatron gave her a look.

 “There’s something in your tone. Has something happened?”

 She was quiet for a minute before nodding. “Some Elite Guardsmen were walking around the Hanging Edge earlier.”

 “I see.” He frowned.

 “They suspect. I saw them roaming the city incognito, like they could hide their large physiques or analyzing gazes under a façade of pitiful barbarianism.” She huffed. “You words are appearing all over Cybertron, in shipyards and distilleries, fix-pits and relinquishment clinics: You are being deceived.”

“Did they threaten you?”

 “No, but you could tell they were trying to gain information from me-or on me. They were being really vague.” She chuckled. “I’m not one to lose my temper, but that was the first time I ever wanted to bite someone’s head off.”

 Megatron didn’t like the sound of that. If the senate was already sending undercover agents to Tarn, then they probably already had it in their minds that he was behind the bombings, or at least were planning to use him as a scapegoat. It was only a matter of time before either he or Elmeth were made to “disappear”.

 “Maybe I should stop writing,” Megatron sighed. “Just for a while.”

 “No, write more, write quickly. Write while you still can.” She said. “Pin your thoughts to the page like, like wrath flies, so that others may study their patterns. The people are hungry Megatron, and you must keep feeding them.”

 “But if I don’t stop they’ll-“

 “Never back down. Never bend to the pressure. Don’t let them use fear to control, use your words to control them. Never mind about me.” Elmeth traced the creases in his hands. “Just promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll keep going, even if something happens to me. You’re too strong and important to give up now. Not when so many people look up to you as their savior.”

 Megatron wanted to refuse, say that all of it would mean nothing if he couldn’t share that freedom with her, but something in her eyes stopped him. The conviction in her eyes, the bravery, it was clear that she knew things would escalate like this. The path to true freedom is riddled with dangers, threats tragedy, but in order to achieve that far off goal, to make sure that those sacrifices would not be in vain, he would have to bear the pain. He didn’t like to think that something might take her away from him, but she was prepared to face the future and he realized that he was too.

 “I promise,” He said. “I will keep our dream alive.”

XXXXXX

 In Styx, also known as Blaster City, an armaments factory filled a steel canyon near its borders, its exhaust portals and smokestacks coming just level with the surface, once raw materials were minded out of the canyon; then when they were exhausted, the factory was built in the space they left behind. When the bomb went off, attached to a reservoir containing plasma fuel for the arc torches used in the construction of highly heat-tolerant weapon barrels and magazines, observatories on Epistemus and Solomus recorded a flash that momentarily whited out their lenses directed at that portion of Cyberrton.

 From the ground, it looked as if a column of energy had erupted from the canyon, reaching out toward the sky and spreading into a torus of expanding heat and light. Bits of debris as small as a casing of conduit junction and as large as the entire cooling stack, which had, at that moment, stood radiating away the heat from the small fusion reactor, rained down across multi-hics of Badlands and the unfortunate cybertronians who happened to be working, scheming or just passing through.

 In Styx, Sparks were cheap. No one cared about life or death. And no one knew how many cybertronians disappeared when the armaments factory vaporized.

 The people who watched did know one thing though. Cybertron’s Primal Vanguard just lost an important source of munitions.

XXXXXX

 The Sonic Canyons were said-by some of the more pious and conservative cybertronians-to be the ears of Primus, his means of keeping track of events in the universe his creations inhabited. The great supercomputer, the Oracle, was popularly said to be integrated with those canyons as well, though it had been long millennia since any bot had consulted the Oracle. Most of them did not know if the Oracle was still active or functional-or had ever existed.

 A series of explosions tore through the northwest terminus of the canyons, where legend had it, an ancient entrance to the Oracle’s interface had once existed. No one, initially, could be certain whether it was an attempt to collapse the venerable computer or a forced entry into their interior of the canyon walks.

 Was someone trying to access the Oracle or destroy it? Or what else might be on the inside of the Sonic Canyons so valuable that one would riddle the site with bombs? In the chaotic aftermath of the explosions, all possibilities were on the table. Conspiracy theories flew all over the place, as were accusations of who would do such a thing.

 Across the Grid the upper castes were outraged. Was nothing sacred? What did these degenerate scum desire that they would strike at the very foundation of Cybertron itself?

 It was Megatron, they said. This Megatron was behind it all, he and his followers who preached his rustful words like gospel. They were the reason for such devastation. He’s caused enough damage.

 The senate should do something.

 This Megatron, he should be in prison. Next it’ll be the resorts, then the museums, then the Hall of Records! He should be in prison…or perhaps, we would all be better off if he were dead.

XXXXXX

 On a secure, open channel on the Grid, one feed to all the caste aggressors and directly to the senate’s group input, Megatron spoke up for the first time in live. Legally this task belonged to one of the programming castes, but as luck would have it, some members of the gladiatorial support crews and technicians were former members of the caste and others were just wizards at programming, hacking and coding-a full realization of just how the GCT squandered a bot’s potential.

 Megatron stood on a podium for all to see, letting all of his charisma pour forth into his words. “I have nothing to do with these attacks, but I do not deny the possibility that the people who carried them out were partly inspired by my belief that every cybertronian has the right self determination.” Megatron swept a powerful arm in an arc over the assembled crowd, taking in a cross-section of castes and occupations. “I pity the loss of life, but how many of those who died took pleasure from watching me fight for my life in the gladiatorial pits below Tarn? How many other cybertronians died for their pleasure? Now those cybertronians, whose lives were your pleasure, are telling you that they reclaim their lives! No cybertronian shall tell any other cybertronian what can and cannot be done!”

 As with the other speeches, his audience who watched in person and over the Grid, but this time, his words reached everyone from all castes. He was making sure that all of Cybertron heard his message-and that he was not backing down. Elmeth’s words ran through his mind as he gave his speech. He wasn’t going to back down, and he wanted the entire world to know this.

 “I am Megatron of Tarn. I lead all those who choose to follow me, and I repudiate all those who perform despicable acts in my name. I do not fight with bombs, but with logic. I do not believe in killing, but in the arena of ideas. Let the perpetrators of these acts feel the full weight of Cybertronian justice.” Megatron stepped closer to the feed, his visage filling the frame as his expression grew cold and menacing. “If I find them first, my justice will be swifter and more final.”

XXXXXX

 At Six Lasers over Cybertron, the favorite roller coaster was the Plasma Curve. Lines for it extended around the entire set up of girders on which the magnetic coaster rails sat, conducting cars at speed and gravitational forces sufficient to leave riders dizzy and delirious enough to want to ride again. There were seventy-one of these girders, sunk into the ground and anchored with welded bolts.

 As Megatron’s first speech to the Cybertronian public reverberated across the planet, another feed exploded across the Grid.

 Thirty-six Minicons, their polished frames glinting in the garish light of the coater’s signs and logos, scattered across the bases of the girders. The formed two concentric circles, one around the outside girders and the other clustered near the center of the Plasma Curve’s route. Waiting bots looked up, ignoring the Minicons. They were only concerned about getting their turn on the curve and nothing else.

 Then, simultaneously, the thirty-six Minicons detonated thirty-six fusion bombs. The enormous steel edifice of the Plasma curve collapsed in a blinding flash of unleashed energy and mangled cybertronians. As it hit the ground, the riders-upon coming into contact with the intense electromagnetic energies on the tracks-explained as if they were bombs themselves. Fortunately, their deaths were instantaneous.

 It was this scene Megatron spoke over and no one would hear.

 The truth would not matter.

XXXXXX

 “I need to return to Iacon.” Orion said.

 He was standing at the entrance to the ship depot with Megatron and Elmeth. Lugnut and Barricade stood close by as bodyguards, even though it was assured that the majority of Tarn’s civilian population would strike at their “savior”. Orion was glad for the protection all the same. Things were reaching a critical point that neither he nor Megatron predicted.

 Megatron clasped his shoulder. “I wish you left on better terms, Orion. I don’t think Iacon was targeted, but I doubt it will be as calm as when you first left.”

 “I know,” Orion sighed. He was going to be so busy when he returned home. “Which is why I must go back to help maintain the peace, the anti-government riots and protests are going to be off the scale. But I hope that you and Elmeth remain in good health.”

 “As do I for you, friend.”

 Orion looked at Megatron before asking. “Are you sure that there’s nothing you can do to mitigate this?

 He shook his head. “We are friends. We will do great things in our respective lifestyles, but we must also realize that once we set things in motion, they will not always unfold according to our plans. That, too, is the nature of free will, is it not?”

 “It is.” He reluctantly admitted. Free will was a double-edged sword that could easily be abused for personal gain. He knew it was a stretch to ask Megatron if he could somehow fix things. The silver mech had mentioned that he only lit the spark, and the people are spreading the flames.

 But who is spreading the flames?

 As he pondered this, he said his goodbyes to Elmeth. Seeing her now in the evening light only made him pine for her more. How had such a dark and savage place not dimmed the beauty of such a wonderful femme? As they traded what could be their final words to each other, Orion saw the knowing look in her eyes. She expected him to heed her words, make of them as he will. And he planned to listen to her. She and Megatron had changed his world view in drastic ways, and he felt lighter and more free than he had ever been before.

 “Thank you both for showing me the truth,” He said to them. “I don’t know what I can do to change thing, but I’ll try my best to make a difference.”

 “You’re already doing it, Orion.” Elmeth said.”Take heed of how the world really is, and do what you always do, make the streets safe for everyone. Keep moving forward and don’t turn back or stop. That is the best way to live your life.”

 “I will.” He smiled.

 After sharing one last soulful glance with Elmeth, Orion shook hands with Megatron and boarded the shuttle leaving for Praxus. They waved each other goodbye one last time, not knowing that this is the last time they’ll ever be together as friends.

XXXXXX

 The ancient fortress of Darkmount was a large, old but still standing stronghold that loomed over the historical area of Polyhex. It once served as the fortress of the barbarian king Galvatron. A plume of magma from Cybertron’s mantle, creating what the locals knew as the Upper Pool, in a caldera around which the bulk of Darkmount had been built. Darkmount as a fortification around the upper pool from primitive cybertronian life forms during the Age of Evolution, and incredibly it was also where one could find the most Predacon bones as well. The lower pool was a more accessible caldera that harbored a small settlement of artisan manufacturers. The caldera ceaselessly fueled their works and adorned the livings spaces of higher castes.

 Some high caste cybertronians had built their dwelling places on the opposite side of the valley from Darkmount. These were the fancy and expensive abodes of lovers of art, socialites who preferred to stand out by living in remote areas and flew/drove from party to party in larger cities.

 In between them and the fortress itself, was the city of Polyhex. The bomb that went off there, destroyed a cliff face that collapsed in a slow motion cascade into the lower pool, bringing with it a number o outrageous homes. There were few casualties, but they were of prominent cases, and that made them more valuable than two dozen common workers.

 Among them was the renowned artist Chromatron, who was in the process of creating a projection model of Megatron, whose face he had seen for the first time on holo-vid the day before.

XXXXX

 Stanix was one of the radical nodes in the great architecture of information that cybertronians had for millions of years called the Grid. Feeding from the central servers and the great pool of data at the Hall of Records in Iacon, each node served as a backup and distribution point for the communications that did not need approval or routing through the central processors.

 The node itself was built into a ridge at the eastern edge of the city of Stanix itself. Above it say Fort Scyk, a training site for the senate militias and local civil-defense regiments. It was at Fort Scyk that the first Legislators had conceived of the idea of forming the Enforcers.

 And it was at Fort Scyk where the bomb destroyed the headquarters of the current militia magistrate Gauntlet. Gauntlet took pride in the history of the sire, and Stanix’s military history. He was a firm believer in the caste system, in the order that it brought and had never considered a life outside the military caste he was channeled into upon maturation from his protoform stage.

 Gauntlet had observed the classified transmissions from Iacon about this Megatron character. He was nothing special, just another low caste malcontent who thought he was above the functionist policy that served Cybertron for years. That was Gauntlet’s firm opinion and he was waiting for the senate to realize this and snuff that mech out-and maybe finally take direct action against that cesspool of crime in the Badlands.

 He was looking forward to that. It would be doing everyone a favor to wipe out that black degenerate stain on an otherwise perfect society.

 The bomb, carried by an anonymous Minicon, detonated just below the viewing grounds in the Fields Kho, in the northwest corner of Fort Scyk. It blew that corner of the fort out and down the side of the ridge. This bomb was also a modified EMP, and its detonation released a pulsewave that caused cascading failures in the Grid node located in the ridge itself.

 183 cybertroinians were killed by either the explosion, the collapse or EMP damage to their processing systems. Among them was Gaunlet.

XXXXXX

 Alpha Trion watched the fires bloom across the face of Cybertron. The sight brought back a lot of memories for the Archivist-memories of the first and last war he had ever taken part in and ended what could have been a millennia-long paradise. He thought that after the Quintesson was, Cybertron would have some semblance of peace-but perhaps he was being too optimistic.

 He stood at his window looking out at the golden city of Iacon. The Oracle lied open on his desk, its words manifesting in a language only he-and others like him-could read. Someone was coordinating these attacks, and it wasn’t Megatron.

 Alpha Trion tried to consort the Oracle, but even it did not know the identity of the ringleader behind these attacks, and that’s what worried him. Nothing could hide from the gaze of the Oracle-not even him. But this person was somehow able to avoid its divine gaze, and it troubled the otherwise calm and measured Archivist. Such a thing could be possible for gods, and that wasn’t a thought he wanted to entertain.

 There was a knock on the door and he heard the voice of Elita-1. “Alpha Trion? You have a visitor.”

 “Elita, I told you that I’m not having visitors right…” He looked up and noticed that she had already opened the door and looked a little nervous. “Elita, are you alright?”

 “I’m sorry, Alpha Trion but she’s rather insistent that she speak with you.” She said.

 Trion closed his book and nodded. “Let her in.”

 Elita-1 nodded and she stepped back to allow the visitor entry. His eyes narrowed as the fiery red form of Ember walked into the room. She looked calm and collected as always, looking like she was queen of the world. Now he understood Elita-1’s unease. Ember had an oppressive aura about her that she liked to project onto others to get what she wanted, making herself the dominant force in the room without really doing anything. She strolled up to his desk, giving him that infuriating smirk as Elita-1 left them alone.

 “Such a sweet thing, isn’t she?” Ember said. “It’s rare to have someone as special as her close by. But you’ve always had a habit of attracting special people, Alpha Trion.”

 “What do you want Ember?” Alpha Trion asked. “As you can see, I’m very busy.”

 “Surely you can spend a couple of minutes with an old friend.” She pressed. “It’s not like we’re getting any older here.”

 He stared hard at her before motioning her to take a seat. Ember smiled and sat down, flaring her vermillion wings a bit to give her some room. She always had a flare for the dramatic, and couldn’t resist digging into Trion’s nerves. Together, they watched the holo-vid of the news reports on the multiple bombings that had been occurring all over the planet.

 “And so begins the fall of our civilization. Anyone who didn’t see this coming was a fool.” She said. “Who would’ve thought that Megatron’s reach was so widespread?”

 “What makes you so sure that it was Megatron who orchestrated this?” Alpha Trion asked.

 “Personally I think this might be the wishful thinking of some underground radicals who did a superb job of hiding their true colors, like that Dark Bird femme. But the senate, well,” She smiled mockingly at him. “They think this is Megatron’s doing. But we both know that’s not true. We’re smarter than that. The senate just wants an excuse to cover the fact that they’ve been caught with their chest plates off. Steer people away from the fact that they let a revolution fester under their noses.”

 “This will mean war,” He told her. “A war with Megatron right in the middle of it.”

 “Not just Megatron, dear.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “Megatron is not the only one who will be at the heart of this. I know this, and you know it to.” Ember looked him right in the eyes as she said this. He got the message. “I’m curious to see what happens when society degenerates at the rate its going. When evolution takes its toll on our kind.”

 “Evolution.” Trion repeated, sounding skeptical.

 “Yes. Unlike organics, we’ve never evolved from animals or micro-organisms. Cybertron created us as we are, and save for a few differences, we’ve remained the same, and most of our evolution was psychological instead of physical. But here we are, a once great civilization ruled by chaos and order, treating ourselves like the robots that the rest of the galaxy sees us as.” Ember ranted. “Even you can see how Megatron is a product of this chaos, a mech born to tear down our order and make a new regime from the chaos. He doesn’t see it like this, but he will go through with his plan.”

 “And what about order? If Megatron represent chaos, and destruction, who represents order and rpeservation?”

 “That I cannot answer, but we both know it’s not that fool Nominus.” She spat. “Figureheads like him don’t last long under these conditions. No, it must be someone who has seen both sides of the coin, but still seeks o change the cause of the problem instead of just wiping it out.” Then she smirked. “How is Orion Pax by the way?”

 Alpha Trion didn’t answer, keeping his guard up. He knew she was baiting him into saying something, giving something away that she could use.

 “I saw him a few days ago, and looking at him, I was immediately reminded of someone I met long ago, back when Iacon was still young.” She tapped her chin in thought. “Now, what was his name? Haydon?”

 “You should leave, Ember.” Alpha Trion said firmly.

 Ember smiled and stood up, stretching out her wings. “You think yourself as some kind of god, don’t you? Even someone who has been humbled by nature after losing everything you’ve fought for, you still think you’re above everyone else. Well you’re not, sooner or later, your transgressions will come back to haunt you and you’ll be praying for release when it becomes too much to bare.”

 Alpha Trion stood up from his seat so that he was staring her in the eyes. They locked gazes for a moment, neither bot backing down. Finally Ember broke the stand-off and walked to the door. But before she left, Ember left him some parting words.

 “You can’t protect him forever, Trion. Point-one percenters are known for attracting trouble. And you watch from her lofty abode like some divine overseer, your beloved protégé will suffer the horrors that this world has to offer. That is the fate of all those touched by Primus.” She gave him a deep bow. “May the glorious Jubileus bless you.”

 She turned around and left the room, slamming the door shut. Alpha Trion was once again left with his thoughts and memories, two companions who stood with him since the beginning of time.

XXXXXX

 A public announcement was held in Iacon’s city square, the Primal Bascilla. There, before a massive crowd, Nominus Prime addressed the public on the recent events surrounding the bombings. The people needed someone to look up to for protection-who better than for their very own Prime to step up to the plate? For the senate, it was the perfect chance to take back the public, who were starting to be swayed by the rebellious words of Megatron. They knew that before any action could be taken, they had to get the population back under their control and the bombings provided the perfect opportunity. After all, fear sells.

 Nominus Prime stepped onto the podium, his blue and gold armor gleaming in the sunlight, with the Elite Guard standing in attendance alongside Sentinel. The crowd cheered for him and he waited for them to settle down before beginning his speech.

 “My people,” Nominus began. “I know you are all afraid for what the future holds. I understand your fear; it seems as if they are enemies on all sides, both outside and within our borders. It is hard to know who to trust, but let me assuage your worries: you can place your thrust in me and the senate. We, the people of Cybertron, have survived far worse than this; barbarians, the Quintessons, the loss of our beloved Nova Prime and the horrid Rut Plague that followed. We have endured and survived them all and we will keep doing that for as long as we remain united.”

 Then his voice grew more powerful as he continued. “There are people out there who seek to tear down the perfect society we have worked so hard to build and maintain, our Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, which has saved us in our darkest hour. But rest assured, we will weed out these murderers who hide in the shadows and bring them to justice. We will unite, we will stand together, and I will wipe out this insurgence! We will prevail!”

 The roar of the crowd was beyond deafening-so loud, in fact, that the only sound capable of drowning tem out was the boom of the explosion that erupted from the podium and engulfed Nominus Prime and almost half the audience.

 

 

 


	9. Autocracy

Chapter 9-Autocracy

 Iacon was in shambles. The people were on the verge of an all-out panic and the authorities were doing their best to maintain order in the increasingly chaotic situation. Nominus Prime was in critical condition and his Elita Guard, who were also close to the bomb’s epicenter, were already dead. The senate was on high alert as they tried to keep their composure in the public eye, although they couldn’t completely hide their fear at the assassination attempt. They were faced with the startling reality that there was someone out there who was not afraid to target high profile characters to get their point across. Death was not picky, it takes who it wants and shows no mercy.

 Orion Pax had his comm-channel tuned into the DataNet as he was on patrol. It kept him level-headed as he worked hard with the other officers who were tasked with keeping the peace in Rodion. The Department was working around the clock to keep the public from tearing itself apart in fear. Disasters like this were the perfect opportunity for rioters and bad eggs to stir up trouble.

 “This is a disaster,” Orion said to Dion as they drove down the street. “I knew Iacon was bound to get hit, but to actually launch an attack on the Primal Bascilla?”

 “I know. Quickshadow’s got all units on high alert right now. Riots are spreading all over the city.” Dion said and cursed. “Damn it. Are those loser caste bastards so resentful that they’d attack the Prime like that? He’s done nothing to them!”

 “Nominus Prime was a victim of circumstance, Dion. There are people out there who really don’t care who they hurt, so long as the world burns. There are some people from the lower castes who probably got sick of being treated like slag and took the initiative.”

 “Those Scraplets should stay in the holes they crawled out of,” Dion growled. “People like them are the reason so many fleshies look down on us.”

 Orion was silent for a few minutes, but when he spoke, his voice was hard and cold. “Words like that is the reason we’re in this mess to begin with.”

 Dion was caught off guard by his friend’s anger, and saw Orion drive past him, pushing well past the speed limit. “What? Orion, wait up!”

 Orion felt his entire form stiffen with anger. Was he really like that once? So short-sighted and blind, refusing to see the problem growing right under their noses? It made him sick to his stomach to think that he could’ve been like the rest of the people, unwilling to see the problem for what it truly is. Now he realized that doing his job was all the more difficult, because he now saw his fellow officers, people he’s worked with for years, as part of the problem. It was not a good way to think for a police officer sworn to protect the innocent.

 He then realized that Megatron had given him a taste of the forbidden fruit. And now he could never live his life, or see the world, the way he always had anymore. He was free from his little purgatory, and there was nothing he could do.

XXXXXX

 In the Badlands, ripples of what happened in Iacon were being felt by the lower castes as waves. Unlike the remorseful, fearful reactions brought about by the attack on the Prime in Iacon and the neighboring cities, the people in the Badlands were more…jovial in response. Many laborers and miners were partying in local pubs, while gladiators rejoiced-someone finally took the fight to the senate. Now, they thought, those pompous blowhards in the upper castes knew what it was like to fear death looming over their shoulder. Those that looked down on them, spat on them, treated them like they were worthless, they had it coming to them a mile away.

 Megatron could see the situation was sprailing out of control. There were already riots and protests going on in Kaon, and many rioters were gunned down by the state militia in response, without word or warning. Praxus was already being divided between hardline functionists and anti-functionist citizens. Even Ky-Alexia was not spared from the chaos. And it was all sparked by Nominus Prime. A damn shame to, he actually gave a pretty decent speech there.

 ‘I’m amazed nothing’s happened to me yet.’ Megatron thought.

 He wasn’t stupid. He knew there were thousands of people who blamed him for the bombings and now they were most likely going to pin the assassination on him to. There were bots trying to make connections that didn’t exist and pointed fingers at him, all the while the real criminals lit Cybertron on fire, ripping the planet apart from the inside out like Scraplets feasting on a rusting corpse.

 “I swear Megatron, you are the only one in this city who isn’t cheering about Prime’s sacking.”

 The words came from Impactor, an old friend of Megatron’s who also worked the mining detail (but wasn’t kicked out of the job, yet). He was a gruff, blunt mech who spoke his mind, but Megatron respected him for it, despite having different views on how to change the functionist problem. In a bout of luck, Megatron ran into Impactor while he was heading back to the Pits, and the two spent their afternoon catching up at a nearby bar.

 “So what am I looking at again?” Impactor asked as he read over a datapad Megatron gave him. “Not more poetry.”

 “It’s not poetry, it’s a treatise. On the state of Cybertronian society. I started writing it after those protesters were shot the other day.” Megatron said.

 “There’s a chapter here called ‘After the Proudstar: Nominus Prime and the Illusion of Progress’.” That was bold of him considering it wasn’t even a day since the bombing. Impactor grinned at his friend’s courage. “You feel pretty strongly about this, don’t you?”

 Megatron grunted as he took a swig of his drink. “This planet is diseased, Impactor.” He pointed at the datapad. “And that’s the cure.”

 Impactor snorted. “Non-violent direct action? Why don’t we just round up a few hundred of our fellow miners, break out the path blasters and take the senate by force?”

 “Because the revolution will be about ideas. Taking a new step, uttering a new word…that’s what the ruling elite fears the most since violence solves nothing.”

 “Yeah, well I’ll remember that the next time I’m being pistol-whipped by my supervisors.”

 Their conversation was interrupted by a loud crash from the bar and they turned to see two officers harassing a smaller, skinnier burnt orange mech with ostentatious eye brows. Between them were a few spilled drinks. This wasn’t going to end well.

 “Now I’m sorry,” The skinny mech said. “But I’m not going to clean it up.”

 The first officer growled and leaned over him. “You spilled it runt.”

 “My name’s not Runt, it’s Rung.” He sniffed. “I’ll buy you another one, but I’m not sorting out the mess. I’m not a service drone.”

 “Who are you then?” The second officer jeered, getting behind Rung. “A knight of Cybertron? One of the Thirteen? Alpha Trion’s long lost brother?”

 To his credit, Rung didn’t flinch as the cop grabbed his shoulder tightly. “You seem to have forgotten your place in the natural order of things. So why don’t you get down on your knees-while you still have knees-and stay there until my friend and I have the ten drinks you’re gonna buy us. What do you say? Do we have an understanding?”

 “Look, Megatron,” Impactor sighed. “I hate the “ruling elite” as much as you do, but inequality is a way of life. Put two people in a room together and one will always try to assert himself over the other. Now apply that to the whole of society.”

 “So what’s the answer?” Megatron asked. “Accept our lot? Spend all your surface time getting tanked up on low grade ener-“

 Rung’s body crashed into their table, sending shattered glass and spilled energon everywhere. Impactor growled and the untimely interruption of his daily drinking binge and got out of his seat.

 “Hey, if I didn’t get drunk, I’d probably let juiced up cadets like that throw robots across rooms.” He said, slowly marching towards the two cadets menacingly. “But seeing as I’m five quarts of energon in the wind, I think I’m gonna give them a quick lesson in manners.”

 “Impactor,” Megatron warned, not liking the look on Impactor’s face. “What are you going to do?”

 “What I always do in these situations,” Impactor’s right hand changed into a titanium drill as he grinned. “Think with my fists.”

XXXXXX

 Megatron sat in a cell wondering if he should re-evaluate his choice in friends. His hands were still cuffed, of course. Normally prisoners had their stasis cuffs taken off upon entering their cells, but he was Megatron, so they weren’t taking any chances. He supposed that it was dumb luck that he got the dirtiest cell with graffiti and oil stains.

 The brawl Impactor started had taken a very wrong turn from the first nanosecond the punch from thrown. When Megatron tried to stop the fight, the second cadet attacked him from behind and he hit him back in response, backhanding him and knocking the poor bastard unconscious with one blow. Then Impactor tore off his fighting partner’s legs and…here he was.

 The door slid open and a blue mech with two wheels on his back walked in calmly, holding a datapd.

 “Megaton, was it?” Springarm asked.

 “Tron. Megatron.”

 “Right, as in ‘electron’, got it.” Springarm nodded. “And it’s Megatron of…”

 “Tarn.”

 “Ah yes, the famous gladiator.” Springarm said it in jest, not as uptight as some of the other cops were about the infamous prisoner. “Former manual laborer, creation date: 1st cycle 012. Serial number: 071-90. Hm, that’s wired; no batch code. Were you forged or constructed cold?”

 “How is that relevant?” Megatron sniffed. “I thought we’d moved beyond apartheid.”

 “It must be an old question, ignore it.” He whistled. “This is your first offense, Megatron of Tarn. Pretty spotless record for a champion gladiator.”

 “You’ve not charged me with anything yet.” Megatron pointed out. “I’m entitled to legal counsel and a communicube.”

 “Someone’s dealing with all that. They’ll be along shortly.”

“Where’s Impactor?” He asked.

 “Your friend with the drill? He’s at the DNF (Deletran Medical Facility).” Springarm answered. “He’s in a bad way, but at least he can still walk. Unlike those cadets the two of you roughed up.”

 “I didn’t-I mean, I wasn’t,” Megatron shook his head. He didn’t think the damage was that severe. It was just a backhanded slap, nothing major from him. “Are they going to be alright?”

 “Let’s hope so,” A one-eyed mech with a lanky blue body and three clawed hands entered the cell on raptor-like legs and helicopter blades on his back. “For your sake. Springarm, I’ll take it from here.”

XXXXXX

 It was almost the end of Orion and Dion’s patrol when they finally came upon some trouble near the shipyard. The two cops came upon a crowd gathered around something, but then they rang their emergency sirens, they quickly parted.

 “Police,” Orion transformed and approached the crowd. “What’s the problem here? You’re holding up traffic.”

 “Sorry officer, but there’s a fight going on up ahead.” A femme said.

 Orion nodded at Dion and they drew their blasters, pushing past the crowd to see a purple mech beating up on another bot, a femme with purple and gold armor and short wings. They ran up to the mech and quickly brought him down, pushing him to the ground and restrained him.

 “What the hell are you morons doing? This doesn’t concern you!” The mech screamed. A good look at his face made Orion realize that he was a cop from the next district over. His name was Strax. “Screw off Pax!”

 “Not while you’re beating up on a civilian in full view of the public!” Orion growled and pulled Strax up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 “Teaching this animal a lesson!” Strax spat hatefully at him. “It’s creatures like her that caused this mess. Freaks who don’t have a place in the GCT. I’m just showing her that people like her don’t belong here! How things work around our city!”

 Orion looked at the femme. Dion was helping her up, but she pushed him away. She only had a few dents and a cut on her cheek, but what got him was the hateful look she threw his way. He was an officer of the law sworn to protect people like her, but she hated him…feared him. That was not why he signed up for law enforcement, not so he could be seen as a thug. As she marched away, Orion scowled and slapped some cuff on Strax’s wrists.

 “Hey! What the hell are you doing Pax?” Strax said in surprise. Clearly he thought that he was going to get scott free for showing the “animal” her place.

 “My job.” Orion said. “Call the medical center and ask for Ratchet. Tell him that I called. He’ll help her.”

 “Sure, Pax.” Dion was smart enough not to question his partner when he had his “work” face on. He just hoped that Orion didn’t get in trouble with the higher ups for this-Strax knew some people in high places, people who could make Orion’s life very difficult. And Strax had no trouble reminding Orion about this.

 “You can’t do this to me! I’m an officer of the law!” Strax yelled, thrashing around. “I have connections, Pax! They’ll have your job and your head!”

 Orion heard enough of his rambling and slapped a suppressor on the back of his head to send him into stasis. His face was unreadable as he waited for the police carrier to arrive. He wasn’t afraid of the upper castes, or even the senate. If they had a problem with him doing his job, what he was “born” to do, then they’d just have to come down to his level and say it to his face. At this point, he didn’t care anymore. He was going to maintain order in this city, and no one was going to stop him.

 But he had no idea of the events he just put in motion with this one decision.

XXXXXX

 Megatron barely let out a grunt as he was punched in the face again by Whirl. He didn’t wince as the sharp tips of the mech’s clawed hands left thin cuts along his face. His expression was stone cold as he did nothing to temper or challenge his jailor’s assault.

 “I don’t normally indulge in this sort of thing,” Whirl said, sending another punch to Megatron’s cranium, ignoring the throbbing pain in his hands from punching so hard. “But they’re friends of mine, y’know? Those cadets you crippled?”

 Whirl made sure to emphasize each word with a punch or kick to the gladiator’s body. Megatron’s form was covered in dents and scratches from previous blows, but his face had the most damage. And still he did nothing.

 “I’ve noticed that you’re yet to make a sound. I’m afraid I consider that something of a challenge.” Whirl growled. “You’ve brought this on yourself, yeah? Remember that when my fist connects with your brain and you start hemorrhaging sparks. I’ll say you slipped your bonds and attacked me, and I had no choice but to defend myself.”

 Megatron’s face was still unreadable as Whirl continued to berate him, cloaking the rage he was feeling.

 “And your death won’t mean anything to anyone. Just another dead miner. Another wasted Spark who left no trace. Another nobody.”

 Whirl pulled his arm back for another punch, but Springarm grabbed his hand. “What in Primus’s name are you doing, Whirl?”

 “Turn around and walk away, Springarm.” Whirl hissed. “You didn’t see anything.”

 “He’s being set free, captain’s orders.” Springarm said firmly and looked down at Megatron’s battered form. “Jeez, Whirl, what have you done?”

 Springarm was quick to report this incident and had Whirl detained for assault an unarmed prisoner unprovoked. He then escorted Megatron from the cell area to the lobby, where the captain of the Kaon police force, Zeta of Sistex, was sitting at her desk. According to Springarm, she acted on a hunch and called the bartender, who said that Megatron stayed out of the fight mostly, and didn’t start anything.

 Zeta was large for a femme, with a strong, armore body that was a bright bluish white with upward curving horns on the side of her head. She was reading a datapad, his datapad, with vested interest in what she read.

 “Here he is ma’am.” Springarm said. “A bit roughened up but still functional.”

 “Ah,” Zeta looked Megatron up and down. “You must be Megaton.”

 “It’s Megatron, ma’am. T-R-O-N.”

 “Oh, as in “electronic”.” She nodded. “This is yours. I couldn’t help reading it, I hope you don’t mind.” She held up his datapad. “I got to the bit about using pacifistic rhetoric to facilitate political reform and I thought, this doesn’t sound like the kind of mech who’d rip the legs off two cadets and feed them into a trash compactor. I don’t agree with everything you’ve written, but at least you’re articulating your concerns. At least you’re doing something. Keep it up.”

 Having said her piece, Zeta uncuffed Megatron and had Sprinarm escort him out the station. Once they were outside, Megatron said something for the first time since the incident.

 “It’s not electronic.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “My name. The “tron” is from neutron-as in bomb.” Megatron explained curtly.

 Springarm looked at him strangely, wondering if Whirl knocked a circuit loose during his beating. “Right, okay. Well, enjoy the rest of your life citizen.”

 Springarm handed Megatron his datapad and walked away, leaving Megatron standing in front of the police station. He looked around and saw how the people, not gladiators or despots, but regular citizens, looked at him like he didn’t belong there. It was midday, but the courtyard was almost empty, which he realized was due to everyone giving him space. Like he had the rust plague.

 This realization infuriated Megatron. People he bled for, preached to stand up and make a stand, treating him like he was some outcast who didn’t spend every waking moment of his life ensuring that they could live lives that were free and without oppressing and segregation. Like they didn’t care that he risked everything to make their live better. So this was how they would treat a hero who was honest and true?

 Megatron looked down at his datapad and saw his reflection scowling at him. With a sneer, he threw the device away, sending it crashing into a neon signpost and shattering it in a rain of sparks. Without a second thought, Megatron marched away, dark thoughts on his mind as the sky above grew cloudy.

XXXXXX

 Orion sat at his desk at police HQ watching the (Iaconian Newsfeed Service) on his desk monitor. Surprisingly, the entire station, save for a few bots down on the lower level, was empty. Most of the cops were on patrol and Quickshadow was off on a joint mission with another police department to coordinate a larger array of crime prevention. With nothing to do the young mech spent his stormy evening watching the news updates on the Nova Plaza bombing.

_“This is the Iaconian Newsfeed Service bringing you coverage of this morning’s terrorist attack on the Primal Procession. Nominus Prime’s fate remains unknown after a member of the 20,000 strong crowd there a bomb at the Matrix bearer. Reporting from Nova Plaza is Blaster. What’s it like down there, Blaster?_

The camera switched to the bright red form of Blaster, who was standing near the rubble of what used to be Nova Plaza. The fires from ruptured gas pipelines were still active, and relief workers and paramedics were digging through the rubble for any survivors-or bodies.

_“In a word: chaos. The death toll has already reached double figures, ad medics are still pulling bodies from the wreckage.”_ He reported. “ _And while we wait for an update on Nominus Prime’s condition the senate has denied rumors that the suicide bomber released Corrida Gravis or some other rusting agent into the air. No one has come forward, although the fact that the bomber switched to alt mode suggests that it is not the work of Triple M. however it may be that-“_

_“Sorry to cut you off, Blaster, but we’re receiving reports that the Matrix Flame is flickering. It’s-wait a moment,”_ He listened to the rush of new information coming on air. “ _It’s flickering, but it has not, I repeat, it has not gone out, which would suggest that Nominus Prime is still alive, albeit seriously injured. And now, while we await an official statement from Senator Proteus, and update on the electrical storm that’s about to hit the Tri-Peninsular Torus States-bzzzzzz…”_

The video went into static as lightning flashed outside. Orion sighed and leaned back in his chair when a smarmy voice cut the silence.

 “Bad reception? It’s the electrical storm.” A tall, brawny, black and green mech strolled into the building with two other bots behind him. “And something tells me things are gonna get a whole lot worse.”

 He walked up to Pax’s desk and looked around, trying to do some small talk before strong arming Orion into doing something for them. Orion wasn’t stupid, he knew these guys were thugs (painfully unsubtle ones at that). Primus knows that they had the negotiating skills of Thunderhooves.

 “I like what you’ve done with the place. And that trophy cabinet-very impressive.” The mech said conversationally. “I heard your captain’s predecessor used to go hunting for primitives. He had a-what are those organic things called, those bipeds…you know with the hair and the opposable thumbs? From the Nebula Cluster. Nebulans? Yeah. He had a Nebulan stuffed and mounted on the wall.”

 “Can I help you?” Orion finally asked. It was like listening to a druggy do math equations.

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you can Orion Pax.” The thug said. “Can I call you that?”

 “You can call me officer. Or better, you can tell me why you’re here.” Orion replied. He was not in the mood for games right now.

 The thug looked a bit put off by Orion’s attitude. He wasn’t used to people mouthing off to him or his group. “We’re looking for a friend of ours. Name is Shax. He works here.”

 “Woeked. He’s in custody at the moment awaiting trial.”

 “You’re right of course. Terrible business, beating up a civilian. Can’t have that can we?” He nodded.

 Orion crossed his arms. “Glad we see eye to eye.”

 “But I think you’ve made your point now, don’t you? I think he’s learned his lesson. I think it’s time we all moved on.”

 “I’ll tell you what I think,” Orion replied. “I think it’s time you left.”

 “He’s a popular bot, Strax. Makes friends from all walks of life. From those at the bottom to the top. The very top.” The thug was making sure Orion got the message clearly and hoped it would intimidate the mech into releasing their “friend”. He was going to be very disappointed. “Him getting arrested, well. It would cause certain bots a degree of embarrassment.”

 “I don’t care if he shares a branched Spark with Senator Proteus himself,” Orion stood up and got into the thug’s face, ensuring that his threats weren’t going to work on him. “He broke the law.”

 To his credit, the thug didn’t lose his temper and cause a scene, though Orion could tell that his patience was waning. “First command post, yeah? They say you’re making quite the name for yourself. ‘He’s turning the dead end around’, they say. Trouble is, the more you build something up, the more it hurts when it all comes crashing down.”

 “Are we done?” Pax asked. “Because I have work to do.”

 Seeing that using his typical methods of persuasion wasn’t working, the thug frowned and motioned his flunkies to back off.

“You’ve lived up to your reputation officer,” He said as he walked towards the doors. “Shame.”

 Orion didn’t let down his guard until they were gone and off the premises. He slumped in his seat, head in his hands, and rage building up within him. So that’s how it was? Try to do a little justice and the senate tramples over it just to avoid bad press. Had anyone else been here, they would’ve crumbled and released Strax, a bot who assaulted a civilian in the middle of a public road. At a time when the people’s faith in the authorities were already at a standstill.

 ‘No, in their eyes, he was doing his job.’ Orion thought, remembering Strax’s comments about showing the “animal” her place. ‘Reminding people of the status quo.’

 The black and white form of Quickshadow entered the building, shaking off water from her form. “Thanks for covering for me. Sorry I took so long.” She said as she got closer. Then she noticed his aggravated expression and tense form. “Are you alright, Pax?”

 “…No, I’m not alright.”

XXXXXX

 Elmeth watched from the doorway as Megatron entered their abode, and began tearing the place apart. She came in not too long after he did, worried upon getting the news of his arrest and his damaged form, and followed him as he stomped into their quarters. She barely had one foot through the door before the screaming started.

 Megatron let out a rage filled roar and began flipping tables, shattering glasses and, to her dismay, destroying the datapads he wrote his essays on. The look of pure rage on his face stopped her from interfering and she only watched from afar as he vented the rage that was building up in him all day long. Thankfully, he had tired himself out and fell to his knees, the crunching sound of datapads being smashed under his weight filling the now silent room. Elmeth figured it was safe for her to come in and she tried talking to him.

 “Megatron?” She said. “Are you alright?”

 “…I tried Elmeth.” Megatron whispered.

 “Excuse me?”

 “I risked everything, my life, my fame, you, to make things better for the people of this planet. To show everyone that we didn’t have to take being treated like objects with a single purpose in life. But despite everything I do for them, they look at me like I’m the one doing the wrong thing, like I’m the monster!” Megatron slammed his fist into the floor. “I do all this for them and this is how they repay me!?”

 “Megatron,” Elmeth walked over to him, her clawed feet lightly stepping on the pieces of glass and knelt down to his level. “You know that they don’t know any better. The assassination attempt on Nominus Prime has everyone spooked, and the senate’s propaganda speeches are throwing everyone for a loop. Some people need time to accept how things are going now.”

 “No, they’d rather be under the thumb of the senate and functionists alike,” Megatron growled. “Those fools would rather be slaves treated like living tools than live free and independent!”

Elmeth leaned back as Megatron stood up, hands clenched so hard that his joints groaned from the stress. His eyes blazed like an inferno, and his expression was etched in an angered scowl reminiscent of some old statues of Galvatron. He trembled with anger at everything, the bombings, the people’s disregard of him and his writings, Whirl’s insults.

 So the people didn’t care if he or others like him died then? That’s fine, because he planned to make them care. He will make them notice the lie they’re living. Make them notice the farce they called peace, the dream they called reality. Megatron vowed to bring all of Cybertron into a new age of freedom and individuality-and he didn’t care if they wanted it or not.

XXXXXX

 Dion noticed a change in his friend. Lately, the usually quiet and dutiful officer was off on patrols rounding up everyone from small time crooks to wanted fugitives hiding in Iacon and Rodion. Before he carried his duties like everyone else-knowing that every day was the same song and dance-but now, he acted like Cybertron’s future was at stake. He was on a roll, and his vigor was starting to catch on to the rest of the department, which was something they needed because things in Iacon were far from being settled anytime soon.

 The city was still in a state of lockdown, and the senate was still trying to find out who orchestrated the attack. There were rumors saying that they were planning on putting Iacon, possibly the entire planet, under a state of martial law. It might not be true, but with so many acts of terrorism in such a short amount of time, it was the most likely option.

 “I’m going out, Dion.” Orion said as he passed his desk.

 “Off to round up more bad guys?”

 “Its’ just something I need to get out of my system.”

 “Huh, when did it get into your system?” Dion asked, chuckling. “I mean, you’re really going for it today.”

 Orion looked at his good friend, thinking for a moment. Then he asked, “Remember what Megatron often preached in the arena?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “He said that the senate was institutionally corrupt. It was in all his writings. He had three questions he wanted to put to them if he ever had the chance and the more I think about it…”

 Dion could see how uneasy Orion was, and it in turn made him nervous. “You alright, Pax?”

 “While you were on patrol, I was paid a visit by some rather unsavory characters.” He told Dion. “Part of the security detail, judging from their design. Sentinel’s men.”

 Sentienl was the head of Iacon’s state militia, a hard as nails mech who was tasked with defending Iacon from external or internal threats, but mainly acted as the senate’s bodyguard. He was also known for his general distrust of the “abnormal” functionists and believed that they made the GCT into some kind of religious cult that sought to override the senate’s authority. Obviously he didn’t say those words out loud, but almost everyone knew of it.

“So you think Megatron’s right?”

 “That’s just it,” Orion shrugged. “I mean, a corrupt senate? I can’t countenance that. I just can’t”

 Dion got up and patted his friend on the shoulder. “This is going to sound stupid, but when I’m feeling-what’s the word? Disquieted?  Is that a word? Yeah, when I feel disquieted, I try to channel the wisdom of the Matrix. It helps me find peace.”

 “I’m, er… not religious. Primus, Mortilus, Adaptus, all that stuff.” He shook his head. “I remain to be convinced.”

 “You believe in the Matrix, surely?”

 “Of course, but as far as I’m concerned-and I say this with the greatest respect- it’s just a bauble. A powerful symbol, absolutely. But nothing more than that.”

 “Now I feel embarrassed.” Dion laughed. “The primal prophecies, the Underbase- you probably think they were all made up by the Thirteen Primes.”

 “I’m not even sure I believe in the Thirteen.” Orion remarked. He shrugged and walked to the doors. “Thank you, Dion. Sincerely. But I think I’ll work through my disquiet in a more hands on approach.”

XXXXXX

 It was only a few minutes after another arena match won by Megatron. The crowd had been galvanized by the slaughter of another warrior who was little more than an annoyance to him. But unlike his past matches, he did not exit the arena. Instead he stood upon the bodies of his opponent, asking the audience to hear his words.

 “Hear me, fell citizens of Tarn.” He said, using his powerful voice to drown out the others. “I’m sure you’ve all heard of my recent incarceration at the hands of Kaon’s police force, and rest assured, no charges were made against me. Though I cannot say the same for my friend.”

 ‘Where is he going with this?’ Elmeth thought.

 “While I was imprisoned in a cell, I’ve made a serious discovery. It would seem that there are some bots who think that we of the manual and labor castes are nothing to them. That we are not worth the Spark of life and that no will miss us when we died.” Megatron paused to gauge the reactions of the spectators and was pleased to see that they were outraged by this. Good. “But I am not bothered by these words, for I know that we are more than just tools of trade to be discarded. We are Cybertronians. And are not all Cybertronians made of the same materials? My alloys are the same of those in the frame of a senator; my lubricants are the same as those that lubricated the joints of the Thirteen themselves!”

 Elmeth looked up and down the row of the stands, the bots who were of the same caste as Megatron. People who risked their lives to keep Cybertron spinning, and yet they were seen as cannon fodder. Once again, Megatron spoke directly to the burning rage festering within them.

 “We are individuals; once we were free, and we will be again!” Megatron bellowed. “The senate, if they heard this, would quietly render me into slag. But I tell you this, even if they kill me, my words remain immortal. Death cannot dampen my ambitions, and neither shall it hinder yours! We have been deceive, but no longer!”

 Megatron raised his sword, stained with energon and spoke to the crowd to all of Tarn, in a thunderous voice. “It begins here. You who take your pleasure from our suffering, and turn our work into your leisure…you have forgotten what it means to be Cybertronian. Once this was the greatest planet in the galaxy. Now we have fallen. But we rise again, because there are yet Cybertronians who can envision the restoration of our former glory. My namesake was dubbed the Fallen because of his fall from grace, his refusal to bow before anyone. Only by knowing how far we have fallen will we understand what it is to rise again. Cybertron!”

 “CYBERTRON!!!” Roared the spectators and the other gladiators in unison.

 Elmeth had seen everyone stand up and salute to their homeworld, acknowledging their status as children of Cybertron, equal and unbound. She couldn’t help but do the same; the atmosphere was infectious and she was glad to see Megatron taking charge of the movement he inspired.

 But she had no idea that this was the beginning of his descent, and that his words would spark a wave of chaos across Cybertron. And that she could be the catalyst.

XXXXXX

Orion knew something was wrong when he saw that the lights at HQ were off. When he got closer, he saw that there was a body lying on the steps, one of the cadets, Wheelarch.

 “Dead.” Orion noted, seeing the hole burned into Wheelarch’s chest. He took out his gun and ran into the station.

 Orion was horrified at what he discovered. The entire station looked like a warzone, with holes blasted into the walls, windows shattered and dead officers on the floor, and not all of them were in one piece. Only a handful of cadets were still here when he left, and they stood no chance against whatever hit them here. To make things worse, he found Dion’s severed head sitting I his trophy case, with his body lying on the floor .

 His anger rising, Orion ran into the prison block, finding the guards posted there also dead, and saw the thugs from earlier letting Strax out of his cell. Orion pointed his blaster at them.

 “NOBODY MOVE!”

 Thug-1 smiled at Orion. “Well, look who it is. We were afraid we’d miss you officer.”

 “P-Pax please,” Strax stammered. “This wasn’t my idea…”

 “Shut up! You’re a liar, you’re all liars.” Orion growled. Then he realized something. “Wait, there were three of you.”

 A blaster bolt caught him in the back and knocked him forward. He pulled the trigger and released a blaster that took out Strax’s knee. A foot stomped on his hand and Thug-2 put a gun to his head.

 “I’m gonna enjoy getting you, Pax!” He growled. Orion kicked him in the face and got to his feet, running over to his desk.

He ran over to his trophy case and snatched up one of the trophies, it was one he got for his outstanding performance at the police academy, the one that looked like a gun. He tore it off the plaque and pointed it at the thugs.

 “Good night.” He pulled the trigger-and nothing happened. “Damn!”

 He ducked under his desk to avoid the wall of blaster fire that came at him. He saw Dion’s body next to his feet, but forced himself to remain hidden.

 “I have one thing to ask you officer,” Thug-1 laughed. “All those trophies, all those commendations, all those awards…what use are they to you now?”

 He got his answer when Orion threw his badges like ninja stars with great accuracy. The badges sharp edges stabbed into their armor and faces, giving Orion enough time to drag Dion’s body into the storage closet with him. One inside, he shut the door and cursed his luck.

 “Nice work, Pax.” He muttered. “Stuck in a room so small you can’t transform and your weapons are a pair of decorative arm cannons.” He looked at the headless body of his partner. “I’m sorry, Dion. You deserved so much better than to die like this.”

 “Come on out and face us! At least your colleagues had the guts to face us head on!” He heard the thug yell outside.

 Orion knew he had few options. If he went out there now, he was dead, and waiting here any longer was suicide as well. He eyed Dion’s corpse and felt along the body’s lower abdomen, where his T-cog would be. Despite dying, the organ was still warm, which meant his transformation ability could be used one last time.

 “if you’re up there, Dion. I hope you can forgive what I’m about to dot to you.”

 Outside, Thug-1 was about to order his men to start shooting up the place, when he heard something strange. “What is that?”

 “Is that guy…growling at us?” Thug-2 asked.

 “No, it sounds more like an engine.” Thug-3 said.

 Orion suddenly burst out of the storeroom riding Dion’s alt mode, a motorcycle. He took them by surprise, slamming the back wheel into Thug-3’s face and crashing the dead bot into Thug-2 hard enough to knock him through a window. Orion jumped off his macabre ride and slammed his knee into Thug-1’s chin.

 “You have the right to deactivate your vocal circuits,” He punched the thug in the face. “Anything you cay will be recorded and replayed in the court of law,” Another punch to the chest. “You have the right to a Xaaron-approved defense attorney,” He slammed his fist into the thug’s face one last time before letting him crumple to the ground.

“Do you understand the rights as they have been read to you?” Orion asked. The thug couldn’t answer. “Oh well. I tried.”

 He saw something in the fallen mech’s visor and spun around just as Thug-3 tried to stab him with a piece of shrapnel. Orion took a shard of glass and jammed it into the thug’s mouth, stabbing it right up into his brain case. Orion kicked the bot away and searched the room for Strax. He was gone.

 He followed the trail of bleeding energon outside and saw Strax dragging his body down the steps, with energon leaking from his leg. Orion didn’t even try to run after him.

 “You really should stop now, Strax,” He said. “It’s embarrassing.”

 “I didn’t ask them to rescue me.” Strax grunted. Orion walked over to him and kicked him onto his back so the wounded bot could see the rage in his eyes.

 “That wasn’t a rescue,” Orion growled. “That was a slaughter.”

 “Touch me and they’ll hunt you down. That isn’t a threat, that’s a warning.” Strax told him. “The senate has eyes everywhere. Cross them and they’ll tear your world apart. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen. You have the right to walk away. Anything you say will be used to destroy you. I ask you, Orion Pax, what are you going to do?”

 Orion stared at Strax long and hard, his blue eyes glowing in the heavy storm going on around them. Then he said, “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

XXXXXX

 Sentinel of Nova Cronum stood patiently as he watched the senators of the Cybertronian government debate on their next course of action in response to Nominus Prime’s attempted assassination. He hated having to stand around watching a bunch of pompous aristocrats bitch and whine about something they were obviously going to do before this whole thing started, and were only now acting on it because they were running scared. But it was his duty as head of the militia to make sure that they were well protected. Proteus promised him that he’d get what he wanted soon, but if the choice were left up to him, he’d round up every malformed beastformer and useless bot and shoot them on the spot. This planet belonged to those who could actually contribute something to society.

 The Degagon’s interior, where the senate had their meetings, was a rather brilliant, if not a bit ostentatious, chamber that looked massive on the inside. The senators all sat in a circle formation as they discussed important matters regarding Cybertron under the ever watchful statues of Nova Prime.

 “We will not sit by while terrorists try to undermine our way of life. The attack on Nominus Prime will not go unpunished!”

 “We can’t wage war against thin air, senator Decimus.” Senator Halogen said patiently. Sentinel considered him to be one of the few old gears here who acted like a politician and not a worthless, whiny upper caste mech that threw their money around. “We still don’t know who is behind the attack.”

 “Our head of security is weeding out the culprits,” Said Proteus, Iacon’s ruling senator. “In the meantime, we must protect the populace by clamping down.”

 Sentinel smirked as Proteus finally got to the meat of the discussion. A soldier tapped his arm to gain his attention. “What?”

 “Sorry to disturb you, Sentinel, but we have a perimeter breech.” The soldier said. “Someone wanted to address the senate and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

 “Arrest him and be done with it,” Sentinel waved him off. “I’m trying to watch senator Proteus make a speech that’ll change everything.”

 “We’ll restrict passage across our orbital borders. We will round up the agitators, and the dissidents.” Proteus continued, making sure his voice could be heard across the entire atrium. “We’ll detain anyone without a valid serial code. Curfews, containment, capital punishment-whatever it takes!”

 The soldier was back this time, looking a bit more frazzled than before. “Sir, I’ve been told that our “visitor” has just taken apart a full squadron and he’s heading this way.”

 Sentinel growled. “Scramble all units. Put him down now.”

 The meeting continued without pause as most of the senate began to agree with the idea of a worldwide “clampdown”.

 “Senator Proteus is right. And if the Clampdown means that the general populace must forgo some of their freedoms, well, it is but a small price to pay for their safety.” Decimus said. “And remember: we also have an opportunity to shut down those organizations who have been hostile towards us in the past. Triple M, the Cyberutopians, the Malware Brigade…they should all be locked up.”

 The soldier was back once again, and this time looking like someone threw him out a window-which is exactly what happened to him.

 “What now?” Sentinel growled.

 “Well, sir, I’m afraid that-“

 “That he’s dead? Please tell me he’s dead.”

 “He is…not dead. He’s here.”

 All chatter in the atrium stopped as Orion, looking like he fought through a warzone after fighting nearly the entire security force. But here he stood, strong and tall despite his wounds, with Strax’s body slung over his shoulder like a sack of scrap. Sentinel saw Proteus clench his fist at the sight, and hummed. Looks like Rodion’s supercop put more than just a few dents in Proteus’s men.

 “Esteemed members of the 113th Cybertronian senate,” Orion said loud and clear. “I want a word with you.”

 Sentinel had to admire this mech’s bearings, and was willing to see where this guy was going with all the noise he was causing. “Everyone hold your fire. I want to see how this plays how.” He muttered over the comms.

 “You dare interrupt a senate in private session?” Decimus shouted.

 “Evidently.” Orion replied and tossed Strax to the floor. “This is Strax. He broke the law. Associates of yours wanted me to overlook tat. I didn’t. And many good officers died as a result. I want you to look at him and realize that even the smallest actions have consequences.”

 Murmurs filled the atrium at this news and many of the senators were enraged at his sheer audacity. Even still, Orion continued to say his piece. “You sit in session, detached from the world, giving orders designed to keep the rest of us in check. And if anyone steps out of line, if anyone thinks a rogue thought you tighten the screws. And I didn’t even realize this until I met a miner from Tarn. A friend who had so much to say that he couldn’t find the words. A miner by design, but not by choice, he wanted the freedom to choose his own fate, not have it decided for him by a ruling elite who presumed to know best. And only now do I recognize the limits that you put on our freedom, and you do it because you are terrified of anything you can’t control.

 “They have a name for us, you now. Other races, looking down on us, mapping our progress. They call us Autobots. I’ve often wondered about that name, and now I realize that “Auto” comes from “Automaton”, one who leads a routine, monotonous life. And that’s all we are to you, isn’t it? Automatons. Our lives ever more circumscribed from birth to death, ignition to burnout. It doesn’t have to be like this! All of us, we could be so much more! Autobots. Autonomous. Free-thinking! Masters of our own destiny!”

 Orion pointed a finger at the senators, his voice becoming more passionate. “So as of today, as of right now, I am laying claim to that name. Henceforth, I am an Autobot. And it is Autobots like me who will outlive institutions like this one, unless you mend your ways.”

 “Sentinel? Remove him.” Decimus growled. Sentinel smirked as he ordered his men to take the intruder away. Looks like the big, bad senator doesn’t like having his flaws laid out to him by a cop.

 Two security bots took hold of Orion’s arms and started dragging him out of atrium. But still, he kept on talking.

 “My friend’s name is Megatron and he had three questions! Three things he said you should demand to know of any powerful institution!” He roared. “Question one: In whose interests do you exercise your power? Question two: To whom are you-just let me finish-to whom are you accountable? And three! HOW CAN WE GET RID OF YOU?!”

 “I didn’t catch his name.” Decimus said. Sentinel shrugged.

 “It doesn’t matter. You won’t be seeing him soon.”

XXXXXX

 Orion was dumped into a cell and was left there for the rest of the day. He saw there, in that cramped, empty space for one night into the next morning. He meant what he said; he was an Autobot, one who was an independent being free of the restrictions placed on him for things he had no control over. He had no idea if they would leave him to rust here, or dismantle him out of spite. Maximum security imprisonment was for the bots who really got on their nerves and posed a threat-like Megatron. He didn’t care. He said his piece, and he hoped that people knew just how backwards this government was.

 Then, to his astonishment, he was set free at high noon the next day. Someone had conditioned his release and even allowed him to get repaired by some high quality doctors. When he left the Decagon, a messenger drone told him to meet someone at the Proudstar memorial. Against his better judgment, and not one to be rude to his benefactor, Orion decided to meet with this mysterious savior.

 Which led to him sitting at the memorial on his usual spot, just staring at the golden statue of the legendary ship. Next to him sat a wealthy looking mech, clearly of upper caste construction. He didn’t want to use his name for security reasons, so he introduced his alias, Quake. They didn’t pay each other any attention, but it was merely for show.

 “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.” Quake said.

 “It’s the least I could do.” Orion replied. “I gather I owe you my freedom.”

 “It wasn’t easy. But I couldn’t see a Cybertronian of your caliber get locked up in Garrus-1 or worse-sent to the Institute.”

 Orion glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You’re a senator, aren’t you? You were in the crowd when I…held forth. Why did you save me, after my diatribe?”

 “Because you were right. And because you were wrong.” Quake answered. “The senate is worse than you’ve been led to believe. The attack on Nominus Prime was orchestrated by a faction within the senate. Not that I can prove it-yet.”

 Orion was expecting some surprising revelation, but he wasn’t expecting something like that. “If that’s true, why would they do that?”

 “So they’d have an excuse to move Nominus Prime into hiding. So they’d have unfettered access to the Matrix. So they could find out how it creates life.”

 “The Matrix can create life?” Orion exclaimed.

 “The Knights of Cybertron called it the Creation Matrix. If certain members of the senate can control the Matrix, they can control anything.” Quake explained, his expression tense. “With natural hot spots at an all time low, they could control Cybertron’s future.” He looked at Orion with a grim, serious look. “There’s a war coming, Orion. A war that will split this world in two. Battle lines are being drawn. Sides are being taken. It’s just a matter of time.”

 “And what’s my role in all of this? What do I do?” Orion asked. Quake smiled faintly and looked at the golden replica of Nova Prime’s vessel.

 “You ask what your role is in all of this,” He replied wistfully. “Look inside yourself and you might find the answer.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Shadowplay

Chapter 10-Shadowplay

**Part 1: Post Hoc**

 All Quark wanted was a nice, quiet break after spending half the day in his alt mode sitting on a lab table inspecting tiny, microscopic bits of metal and alloy found by some obscure scientist or miner who thought they found the next source of Tyrrenium. It was back breaking work, especially for a bot as old as he was, and he was just content to enjoy the sights Iacon had to offer.

 Then Nightbeat came along, and all that went out the window.

 The two mechs stood on a corner near McAddams where he got his Nightbeat just got his drink, with Quark reading a news report Nightbeat just shoved into his hand.

 “So what am I looking at again?” Quark asked. “Not more violence.”

 “Some lunatic burst into the relinquishment clinic in Apophenia and started shooting donors.” Nightbeat explained. For a private investigator, Nightbeat had an odd habit of informing his friend about the rising number of violent crimes going on in the world.

 “Where did he get the gun?”

 “Read the whole story. He was ex-military, Primal Vanguard. The gun was part of his anatomy.”

 Quark sniffed at that. “Sounds like one of those Recepticon fanatics.”

 “It’s D: De-cepticon,” Nightbeat corrected him. “After their slogan ‘you are being deceived’.”

 “Thank you, Nightbeat. I immediately stand corrected.” Quark didn’t even bother trying to hide the rolling of his eyes.

 Nightbeat snorted and took a sip of his drink. “I knew you’d blame the Decepticons. You sound like the senate used to, before the U-turn.”

 Quark shook his head. “I’m not a fan of the senate. They said the Clampdown would make Cybertron safe.”

 “And you believed them?” The mocking laugh Nightbeat gave him made Quark’s scowl deepen. “The Clampdown is insanely counter-productive. The curfews, the sky spies…and Primus help you if you have a Tarnian accent. You push the public too far and they’ll push back.”

 “Careful.” Quark warned.

 “What?”

 “Just…careful. You sound like a Decepticon recruiting agent.” Quark took a cautious look around. “Next you’ll be “why should we be tied to one job just because of you alt mode? Why should you be a function slave”?”

 “Two damn good questions.” Nightbeat muttered.

 “Seriously, the whole street is probably wired. Look at that bot over there.” Quark motioned his head to the mech standing across the street, an orange bot with a small, skinny frame and obscenely large eyebrows who was tinkering with a tiny model of the Proudstar. “You’re telling me those eyebrows aren’t secret recording devices? This guy screams government plant.”

 “No, Quark. That guy screams lonely.”

 “Yes well, we’ll see which of is right when they reach the magic number.”

 Nightbeat finished his drink and tossed the glass into a disposal unit. “What, ‘Proteus’ Promise’? not gonna happen. And if it does, so what?”

 “You say that now-once the Decepticons take over, we’re dead. We’re not their type.”

 Nightbeat gave him a look. “They have a type?”

 “Of course they have a-the manual classes!” Quark exclaimed. “Constructibots, miners, haulers, the dirtier your job, the greater your chances of survival.”

 “And you seriously believe this?”

 “Look, I’m scientific caste. I turn into a proton microscope-the functionists allow me a certain degree of occupational freedom because what I do is seen as added value,” Quark explained. “Come the revolution, the Decepticons will force everyone to change shape-and anyone without a drill bit or scoop will be shot on the spot. I’m telling you, it’ll be a trial by-“

 “Are you drinking that or nursing it back to health?” Nightbeat reached for Quark’s drink, but he kept him at bay.

 “Hey, you’re interrupting me because you know I’m right!”

 “Uh-huh. If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”

 “I’m making it last!” Quark pushed Nightbeat away and looked into his drink. “Besides, it tastes weird.”

 Then something fell into the glass, and instinctively Quark and Nightbeat looked up. They were met with the horrific sight of a corpse hanging right above them, dripping energon from multiple wounds on his body into Quark’s energon.

 “I think I know the reason it tastes funny.” Nightbeat muttered.

XXXXXX

 Chromedome liked his job. He was probably one of a rare breed that actually enjoyed the job he was born to do. Despite being a headmaster, a breed of Cybertronian that could shift their head into another, smaller body, he was lucky enough to be granted a certain degree of freedom involving his choice of jobs, and being in law enforcement was a job he took seriously. Other bots of his caste treated it like a chore, but he wondered how many were now getting their dreams fulfilled with all the slag that was going on in the world. Iacon used to be a relatively crime free city with little in the way of civil chaos, but after all the bombings and assassinations, things were falling apart. Some bots were just in it for the pay, but Chromedome liked the chance this caste provided for him to do some good in a world that was quickly starting to rust at the seams.

 That was his thoughts before he met and was partnered up with Prowl-the most rigid, rule obsessed desk jokey of all time.

 He arrived at the murder scene in his vehicle mode and passed the yellow holo-tape that read his badge as he went in. He transformed and saw Prowl already studying the crime scene.

 “What are we looking at Prowl?” Chromedome asked.

 “You’re 0.7 minutes late. And his name is Sherma.” Prowl said in his crisp voice, studying the ground under the still suspended body.

 “Murdered?” Chromedome looked at the body. It was riddled with holes in the torso and wrapped in a heat rod that was hung from the bridge above them.

 “Assassination.” Prowl clarified.

 “When does a murder become an assassination?”

 “When the victim is a senator.”

 Chromedome knelt down and ran his fingers through the puddle of energon under the body. “He leaked to death?”

 “A mech his size suspended in that position and sporting those puncture wounds would’ve lost this amount of energon in minutes,” Prowl explained. “But his external eye temperature suggests his Spark was extinguished hours ago. Senator Sherma was killed, brought here, and hung out to dry.”

 His partner circled around the body and said,” The Decepticons are behind this.”

 “What makes you say that? Does the upside down corpse reference the Deceticons’ plans to upend societal hierarchies?” Prowl asked, sarcasm lacing his voice as he looked at Chromedome through his mirco-lens. “Is it the position of the body such that at sunset, the shadow will point to the Functionist building where the first Deceticon activists were arrested?”

 Unaffected by his partner’s attitude, Chromedome spun the body around and pointed to the back of the body, showing the Decepticon symbol on his back. “There’s all that obviously, but for me, the real clincher is the massive Decepticon symbol graffitied on his back.”

 Prowl hummed, studying the little tidbit he had somehow overlooked and rubbed his chin as he gave one of his signature lines. “We need a full autopsy.”

XXXXXX

 Orion Pax lived a complicated life that got more hectic as time went on. Aside from the fact that he was still on probation (in name only, according to Quickshadow) for his outburst at the Decagon, and the scandal caused by the murder of dozens of police officers in police HQ, he was also something of an urban legend among his peers. His public declaration of being an Autobot and practically spitting in the senate’s face had garnered him a lot of attention that he didn’t really need right now. There was already a small corner of the DataNet that preached his creed and called themselves Autobots. He never meant to spark another revolutionary movement, he only did it in a fit of rage in an attempt to give the senate the finger and let the world know just what’s going on the inside.

 Orion never intended to take after Megatron, but unlike the gladiator, he had a job to do. A job to clean up his city and keep the state from becoming as corrupt and savage as the people who governed it. And Quickshadow figured that mean taking out the trash in the undercity, like the two punks who were beating up a mech overdosed on synthesizers that had less than noble intentions for him.

 “I don’t know what I find more upsetting: the citizen overdosing on circuit boosters, or the two thugs torturing him for their own depraved amusement.” Orion pointed his blaster at them. “Just when you think you know how low people can go…they go lower.”

 The thugs were on guard, knowing who he was (everyone knew who he was at this point) and one of them took out a blaster as well.

 “Look who it is! It’s Orion Pax, supercop!” The first thug grinned. “We heard all about you supercop!”

 ‘I’m sure you have.’ Orion thought.

 “What ya gonna go, supercop? Arrest us?” The other thug taunted.

 “I already have.” Orion said, tossing his gun aside.

 “Say what?”

 “I said-“ Orion rushed forward and punched the gunman in the face, knocking him out. The other mech fired a blast at him, but his reinforced armor (a gift from Senator Quake) easily deflected the bolt and he took that guy out by smashing his fists into the sides of his head and dropped him. “I already have.”

Orion walked over to the paralyzed mech. He didn’t look very good, his armor worn and warped in many areas of his body, his eyes blank and looking like two headlights, and he even had some energon dribbling from his mouth. Circuit boosters were fun if you wanted to get a little buzzed and feel like you jumped into a pool of Engex, but abusing it could caused the mech to burn out his processor and fuel lines from overcharge. And that was exactly what this poor bastard was going through.

 “Roller?” Orion called on his comm. “It’s me. I need you to bring a containment trailer to the undercity, sector DE911. What? Because I’m busy, Roller, some poor Spark is on the brink of burnout. I’m taking him to Ratchet.”

 Roller was one of the few bots that Quake had introduced him to, a like minded bot who hated the senate as much as he did. Roller was a great friend who filled the void Dion’s death left behind, and was Orion’s partner in crime when conducting clandestine operations like this. Operations meant to expose the senate’s secrets and display them for all the public to see.

 The clinic that Pax took the mech to wasn’t really an official clinic, rather it was a drop in medical center set up by Ratchet, an old mech who Pax met during his years in the Iaconian Academy of Science and Technology. Orion would take patients there for Ratchet to fix up, bots who would find no help from the public clinics that were sickeningly selective in who they helped.

 Orion took the bot into a small operation room where Ratchet immediately got to work on the debilitated mech. Ratchet got to work no cooling down the mech’s overheating systems. He flushed the tainted energon out of the patient’s fuel pump and replaced it with fresh energon and used external pumps to siphon the charged energy from his fuel lines. Orion watched the entire thing with awestruck eyes, unable to comprehend the speed at which they moved. To think that even legends like Pharma couldn’t move as fast as Ratchet could during a medical operation. It took only half an hour for Ratchet to fix the bot up and when he was done he gave Orion his thoughts on the bot’s condition.

 “This damage is extensive,” Ratchet said, as he finished welding the mech’s armor panels back together. “What happened to him?”

 “Circuit booster overdose,” Orion said. “That’s the fifth bot I’ve stumbled on to who did that.”

 “That’s five too many. Why the sudden surge in these cases?” Ratchet sighed.

 “Some people just want an escape from how depressing life has become. Can’t say that I blame them.” Orion muttered.

 After a few minute, the mech started to regain consciousness and Ratchet hurried over to him.

 “W-what happened?” He asked, his voice rusty and parched. Ratchet gave him some energon to clear his voice synthesizer.

 “You took one too many circuit boosters.” Ratchet told him. “Almost burnt out your processor in the process.”

 “That’s a damn shame.” The mech said bitterly. “You saving me, not the burnt out part.”

 “You almost died from an illegal substance you shouldn’t have had in the first place.” Orion said, crossing his arms. “I should arrest you.”

 Ratchet waved him off. “Aw, give him a break, Pax. He’s been through the mill. What’s your name kid?”

 “Drift.” The bot grumbled. Ratchet leaned over him.

 “Listen to me, Drift. I saved your life today. What happens next is up to you.” Ratchet said. “Get a Paint N’ Polish and visit the Functionist center downtown-see if they can match you up with a job. You’re special, I can tell. Not get out there and prove me right.”

 Ratchet didn’t normally give pep talks like this, but it pained him seeing bots so young play around with their lives. What was even more disturbing was that there were others out there doing the same thing…and weren’t as lucky as lucky.

 Drift didn’t look convinced, but decided to humor Ratchet anyway. “Look, thanks for the save doc. I promise not to use those things again, for all the damn good they did. But I’m going to head over to the relinquishment clinic and donate my frame.”

 “A relinquishment clinic?” Ratchet frowned. They were nasty placed that allowed a bot to swap his Spark into another body for a fee. Those that donated their bodies were paid a hefty sum depending on how good their “conditions” were. “It’s cheap and nasty body tourism, kid- who knows where it’ll lead?”

 Drift gave him a weak smile and stood up. “Yeah, but it pays well and let’s face it, my alt mode is my one remaining asset. Trust me: there’s some monocycle or proton microscope out there who’s always wanted to turn into a speedster. See ya around doc.”

 Ratchet watched Drift leave the building with a frown, but didn’t stop him. He hoped that the kid didn’t do anything stupid. He put his tools away to be cleaned later, then he noticed Orion watching the video screen and shook his head.

 “You and TV! You’re worse than Roller!” Ratchet sighed. “Y’know, I miss the old newsfeed service. These days all you get is the state-sponsored scrap about Proteus making first contact with the Povians or froth like “The top 10 Metroplex sightings’.”

 Orion didn’t look away from the screen as he calmly gave the bad news to Ratchet. “It’s Nominus Prime. He’s dead.”

 What?!” Ratchet exclaimed.

 Orion turned up the volume so he could hear the broadcast.

 “ _…precise time of death has yet to be announced, but the Matrix Flame burnt itself out last night. The search now begins for the next Prime-although unconfirmed reports suggest that someone close to the senate is already showing signs of affinity. A spokesperson for Senator Proteus confirmed that Nominus died after a longstanding rust infection spread from his fuel pump to his Spark casing.”_

_“_ That’s odd…” Ratchet muttered.

 “What?”

 “I operated on Nominus when he was attacked and his fuel pump was pristine,” The medic rubbed his chin and turned to Orion. “You told me the senate was behind the attack on Nominus.”

 “That’s my understanding, yes,” Orion replied. “Once Nominus was confined to a circuit slab, Sentinel was going to try and tap into the life-giving properties of the Matrix.”

 “So maybe…” Ratchet sighed. “Actually, forget it”

 Orion gave Ratchet his full attention. “You think Sentinel succeeded don’t you?”

 “I know, I sound like one of those conspiracy freaks.” He groaned. Orion put a hand on his shoulder.

 “No, but you remind me of someone I’d like you to meet.”

XXXXXX

 Prowl and Chromedome stood in the forensics lab with the disassembled body parts of Senator Sherma. The body had been taken apart piece by piece by medical analysts and placed on the floor in an even fashion within a sterile environment. They didn’t leave a single screw, armor piece or limb untouched and after a few hours, the two officers were standing before an impressive display of medical knowledge and finesse. Who knew a bot was built of so many components?

 “Amazing what a team of thirty can do in a few hours.” Chromedome took off his head and it transformed into a smaller, humanoid body that resembled his larger form. He walked through the rows of body parts and hummed. “Now at least we know that he was…?”

 “Shot. Several times, at close range.” Prowl said.

 “That’s it? I was expecting something more.” He walked over to the round organ that was the victim’s brain module and tapped it with his foot. “Why wasn’t the brain module dismantled?”

 “We’ve been told to leave it intact. Lobe and his cerebrosurgeons are trying to pull live data from dead bodies.”

 “Since when? You know I’m interested in mnemonology.” Chromedome signaled his body to pick him up and reattached his head. After testing his limbs to get the feeling back he gave Prowl an annoyed look.

 “We’ll talk about that later, now take a look at this.” Prowl held up a vial of blue powder. “It’s powdered glass. It was recovered from Sherma’s boots and traction treads.”

 “It’s cerulean glass-I recognize the grain. Only place you’d find glass like that is at Translucentia Heights.” Chromedome observed.

 “Well done.” Prowl smirked and held up a golden card.

 “What’s that?”

 “A search warrant.”

XXXXXX

 Orion wasted no time arranging a meeting with his “contact”. Ratchet had no idea that Orion had someone on the inside-hell he didn’t know that there was anyone in the senate who was a decent person. He was just now realizing how deep Pax was after his outburst a month ago; the secret missions, the information disruption, rooting out friend and foe. Orion was leading a rebellion of his own and he didn’t even know it.

 They went to the Proudstar memorial, where Orion had arranged the meeting and first met his benefactor after he was freed from jail. As they waited, Ratchet took a moment to look at the plaque displaying the crew manifest of the Proudstar. Nova Prime of Yuss, Jhiaxus of Tesarus Minor…he had seen half these people in person at some point in his early life.

 Ratchet had been online during the later part of Nova Prime’s reign, as with hundreds of other bots, and he had to admit that Cybertron lost a great leader on that ship. Mechs who changed Cybertron forever and now with their disappearances, the planet was left in the hands of pompous fools too ruled by fear and greed to properly govern an entire world.

 “Heroes one and all.”

 Ratchet turned to see the mysterious bot Orion spoke if, Quake, walking towards them. Seeing him in person made him look a lot normal than how the new channels portray him. He knew this senator, probably one of the few mechs on the senate who wasn’t trying to gain more power through subterfuge.

 “I’ve lost count of the millions I’ve spent on search missions.” Quake smiled.

 “I hear you have an interest in exploration.” Ratchet said.

 “And retrieval, yes. I like to find things that are lost. Metroplex is another obsession.”

 They shook hands as Orion looked on perplexed. “I take it you know each other?”

 Ratchet shrugged. “Only by sight.”

 “Quake, this is Ratchet.” Orion introduced. “I trust him.”

 “Then so do I.”

 They took a seat, with Ratchet acting as an innocent bystander just to set up appearances while Orion told Quake of his suspicions behind the former Prime’s death. Quake didn’t look surprised by this information.

 “Of course they had Nominus killed!” Quake whispered. “The moment Sentinel realized that the Matrix in his chest was a fake, his fate was sealed.”

 “And that doesn’t bother you?” Orion asked.

 “Bother me? Orion, it was all I could do to stop myself from storming up to Sentinel and tearing his head off. But my anger has got me in trouble in the past-these days I have to keep my volatility in check.” Quake sighed. “Also, my…influence within the senate is on the wane. I spent most of my political capital intervening to save your life.”

 “No regrets I hope.”

 “Please, you’re my brightest hope.” Quake smiled.

 “Look, I know you want to see the senate humbled and replaced by something better.” Orion said. “I know you want to see Proteus and the others removed. But I still don’t know what use you have for me.”

 “Forget Proteus-Sentinel’s the one to worry about. The scale of his ambition-it’s frightening.”

 Orion narrowed his eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me-I can hear it in your voice.”

 “I…have a hunch. A hunch that Sentinel’s planning something, and that it involves the Decepticons.”

 “Megatron,” Orion muttered. “Is he alright?”

 “Well, he’s sage, if that’s what you mean.” Quake replied. “Despite all this talk of justice, the senate wouldn’t dare kill him for fear of martyring him. But his followers are a different story altogether.”

 Orion grimaced and leaned back on the bench. The Decepticons had skyrocketed into the limelight after Megatron’s broadcasted speech from the arena. Protests, riots, vandalisms, graffiti, the Dcepticons had reached the same notable fame as Triple M and the Malware Brigade, but unlike those groups, the Cons were more than just religious nuts or social anarchists. They were revolutionaries who made their point and a lot of people were starting to agree with them.

 “Do you have any clues as to their plans?”

 “Nothing concrete, but I think a recent murder case might be connected.” Quake handed Orion a datapad.

 Orion read the case file. “Senator Sherma’s murder?”

 “Yes, perhaps it’s just paranoia, but I doubt a Decepticon would murder Sherma and plant their brand on him.”

 “Why do you think that?”

Quake looked grimly at the Proudstar memorial. “Because Sherma was a Decepticon supporter.”

XXXXXX

 One of the drawbacks of the Clampdown was the curfew set a little after midnight. When the sun went down, the streets were emptied, and unless you had a permit to be out during restrictive hours, you were taken in immediately without question and probably thrown in jail with a fine. It was the senate’s way of rooting out law breakers and rebels, but it only served to further anger the populace, especially those who had to work long hours into the night.

 Prowl and Chromedome weren’t complaining about it now, however, as they zipped through the skyline of Translucentia Heights in northern Iacon on skydarts, mobile platforms used by individuals lacking aerial alt modes to get around quicker. The normally bustling streets were deadly quiet, with no sign of life and they were the only ones out at this hour. Without the hustle and bustle of the crowds and vehicles, the city was almost creepy, and you didn’t know what to expect. 

 “You know,” Chromedome began. “If we had decent alt modes we wouldn’t need skydarts to get around. We could just fly everywhere.”

 “I spent my formative years in Petrex, a twin-mode town north of the pancontinental express way.” Prowl said. His partner nodded.

 “I know. You said it was governed by-“

 “By functionist hardliners. Exactly. Making disparaging remarks about your alt mode was an impressionable offense.”

 Chromedome grunted. “Sounds like hell.”

 “Oh, I don’t know,” Prowl shrugged. “It taught me to respect the rules. Without discipline, we’re lost.”

 “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Prowl.”

 The two mechs landed their skydarts near the edge of the residential area that was dominated by towering skyscrapers; the homes of upper caste bots who were alt mode exempt-they were no longer bound to the limitations of their alt mode and were able to choose a job regardless of what they changed to. It was a privileged bestowed by the Functionist council upon a chosen few who have done their duty to society (i.e. them).

 “Course, these days, they’d send you to the Institute and be done with it.” Chromedome remarked. Prowl made a face at that.

 “Pfft.” Chromedome gave him a look.

 “How do you even make that sound?”

 “You don’t really believe in the Institute, do you?” Prowl asked.

 “I don’t know-but whether it’s real or not, the idea of the Institute still fascinates me.” The headmaster replied.

 The Institute was an urban legend born from the fears of the senate’s control and the inherent discomfort of menmosurgeons. It began as a rumor that it was a place where the senate takes bots to repurpose them into well behaved citizens, a sort of psychoward for naughty people. Generally it was seen as some kind of codename or reference, but no one really believed it existed.

 “How many people live here? Two thousand?” Chromedome asked.

 “2,987.” Prowl answered.

 “Iacon’s most privileged and every one of them at mode exempt.” He hummed.

 “You could be to if you got yourself reclassified as a member of the intellectual caste.” Prowl suggested.

 “Easier said than done. I’m the only headmaster of my kind to get this far into the social hierarchy. My brain got me as far as mecha forensics-no further.”

 The two officers stopped at the edge of an apartment complex. “The warden here is one of our most enthusiastic informants. Obsessed with Triple M, then with the Decepticons-this was before Proteus made his ill-advised promise. Nonetheless, if Senator Sherma had business here, we should be able to find out what-“

 There was a loud crash, glass shattering above them and a body was thrown through a window of one of the top floors from the building in front of them. It hit the ground with a sickening thump and Prowl and Chromedome ran towards the crash site. The body landed head first and completely destroyed the head, brain module and all. It also sported a Decepticon symbol with two bullet holes where the eyes would be. The two mechs eyed the corpse and draw their weapons.

 “Correction,” Prowl said. “2,986.”

XXXXXX

**Part 2: Patternism**

In his office, Rolloer sat at his desk, feet on the table and sipping on a box of Kremzeek as he flipped through channels on his tv.

 “ _In other news, Senator Proteus has refused to blame the killing of Senator Sherma on the Decepticon movement, despite claims that a purple symbol was painted on the corpse.”_

The screen flicks to a conference with Senator Proteus giving his opinion on the current events. “ _We should let the murder investigation run its course. In the meantime, I stand by the pledge I made when I announced the Decepticon Registration Act, namely that I will grant the Decepticon movement formal political party status if-and only if-at least 10,000 Decepticons register themselves as such.”_

_“Under the terms of “Proteus’s Promise”, Decepticon supporters have 48 hours left to register before-sorry, we’re receiving reports of a high-speed chase in Translucentica Heights, where…”_

XXXXXX

“Citizen, I…“ Chromedome sighed as the murderer did a low dive under a criss-crossing archway to get away from him. Chromedome elected to chase after the guy on his skydart, but trying to catch a natural born flyer on a skydart he can barely fly was difficult. Who knew? “Citizen, I am an officer with the mechaforensics division and I am not chasing you for fun.”

 The flyer took a sharp dive towards the street and he kept up the chase. “You’ve been caught fleeing the scene of the crime; I am giving you the chance to eliminate yourself from our inquiries.” The flyer banked right, circling around a statue and open fired on him with rapid fire bullets. “Now you’re just being rude!”

 Chromedome turned left on a fork in the street to avoid getting shot down and the fleeing mech zigzagged through the air to throw him of his trail. Chromedome pushed his skydart into overdrive to gain some speed on his quarry, but was forced to slow down when he saw the flyer zoom into a pedestrian air duct.

 “Wait, stop!” He warned him.

 When it comes to glass in Translucentia, there are two things to bear in mind. First, it’s reinforced ‘iron’ glass, second, when you’re flying at high speeds, it’s pretty much invisible. At the speeds the flyer was going at, it was the equivalent of hitting concrete at 40 mph, and the impact of him smashing through the glass was enough to break off a wing and send him spiraling out of control. But it wasn’t the impact that got him, it was when he crashed into a billboard that promoted aerial based alt modes in city limits. Death by ironic billboard.

XXXXXX

 Prowl was in the victim’s penthouse studying the crime scene-“reading the room” as he liked to call it. He didn’t look up as Chromedome waltzed into the room brushing glass of his form.

 “Stay back, I don’t want you disturbing anything.” Prowl said.

 ‘I suppose it’d be too much to say ‘oh Chromedome! Thank goodness you weren’t hurt chasing that serial killer while I did something less risky!’.’ Chromedome thought.

 “Judging by the fact that you’re alone without your quarry, you must’ve let him get away.”

 “He’s actually dead.”

 “Dead?”

 “He crashed,” He crossed his arms. “And you know what? He deserved it. He was an appalling flyer.”

 “I see. In that case, I apologize.” Prowl said. Chromedome didn’t even notice that his partner did something completely opposite what he was expecting as he prepared to go on a tangent.

 “Typical! You never back down, even when-er,“ Chromedome did a double take. “What?”

 “I said I’m sorry. And I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” Prowl repeated, glancing up at him.

 “I-right. Well, okay. Good.”

 Someone cleared their throat and they turned to see a red and white mech standing in the doorway. Hiding his embarrassment, Chromedome quickly addressed their informant.

 “I found the warden you were talking about.” He said. “I had to show nine forms of I.D. before he’d let me talk to him. Tell him what you told me, Red Alert.”

 Red Alert, who was probably the most paranoid mech Prowl had met, explained that the suite belonged to Senator Momus, a fading politician who liked to entertain. Senator Sherma had been had been a regular visitor, as had various diggers, dozers and other commoners-Red Alert’s words exactly.

 “Momus was the last person I thought would be targeted by Decepticons. Look here,” Red Alert altered the light spectrum in the suite to ultraviolet, revealing the Decepticon symbol and the phrase “you are being deceived” in bold letters. “I found it by accident…eventually.”

 Red Alert pulled out a datapad from his hip compartment and handed it to Chromedome. “I found this as well.”

 “ _The Decepticon Manifesto: The Illusion of Progress Revisited,”_ Chromedome read. One of Megatron’s latest essays that was released after his brief incarceration. “Hey Prowl, take a look at this. Prowl?”

 Prowl was kneeling on the floor studying the broken window from different angles, studying the glass shards’ position on the floor and measuring their individual distances from the window pane. Red Alert looked at him strangely.

 “What’s he doing?”

 “Showing off. He can observe 800 moving objects and compute their direction of travel in 0.5 seconds.” The headmaster explained.

 “So?”

 “So he can do it in reverse. It takes more time, but…by mapping where the broken glass came to rest, he can extrapolate the patterns of movement necessary to generate that precise distribution of debris.”

 Red Alert knelt down by Prowl. “You’re working out how Momus was killed by his attacker.”

 “Attackers.” Prowl said.

 “What?”

 “I just realized: there were two of them.”

 Out of nowhere, a purple bot ran out his his hiding spot, pushing past Prowl and jumping out the window. He transformed into a cybertronian jet and opened fire on the three mechs with photon spray lasers.

 “Death to the Decepticons!” He cried.

 Everything was a blur of lasers and broken glass. Red Alert, Prowl and Chromdome hid behind an overturned table, unable to move from cover lest they get torn to shreds. Red Alert yelped as a bolt flew over his metal helmet and sizzled the tiny centimeter where his head was exposed.

 “What are we going to do?” He yelled. Prowl tried to shoot back, but flinched when a photon bolt shot over his head.

 “I don’t know,” Prowl said with wide eyes. “I’ve never…”

 “What?” Red Alert asked, and Prowl looked away embarrassed.

 “I’ve never…”

 “WHAT?!”

 “He’s never been in a firefight!” Chromedome yelled.

 The flyer was still unleashing his barrage on the ravaged suite, but he didn’t see the large form descending upon him until it crashed on top of him. The added weight caused him to lose balance in the air.

 “You could do the sensible thing and land or I can punch you to the ground.” Orion Pax ordered.

 Inside, Prowl and Chromedome saw Pax and the criminal stutter in the air before the flyer took a nose dive. They were already out of the suite and down the elevator when they heard a loud crash on the street. They ran out of the building and saw Orion standing over the broken body of the murderer, who had a wide grin on his green face as his body twitched sporadically. Orion tried to interrogate him when a bright light shined out of his chest plate.

 “No! His Spark’s collapsing!” He exclaimed and jumped up with the mech’s chest plate exploded outward and a hissing noise sizzled from his teeth. Within seconds the flyer was dead, with a devilish grin on his face, as if mocking them. “Damn.”

 Prowl came marching up to Orion, not looking very pleased at losing a potential suspect. “I suppose you think that was clever? Playing the hero! When ordinary citizens start taking the law into their own-“

 Orion shoved his hand into Prowl’s face and projected his badge. “My name is Orion Pax. Read my palm! I’m a registered law enforcer.” He looked Prowl up and down. “You must be Prowl. I’ve heard a lot about you. I assumed most of it was exaggerated.”

 “Thanks for the save. That guy caught us completely off guard. “Chromedome said. “It’s not every day that the perp hides at the crime scene.”

 “Why are you here?” Prowl asked, still reeling from the sudden firefight.

 “I’m investigating Senator Sherma’s murder. I heard he was friends with Senator Momus and came to Translucetia Heights to speak with him. Judging from what happened here, I was too late.”

 “Yeah. We found a Decepticon symbol etched onto Momus’s wall and one branded onto his body.” Chromedome explained. “But why come here?”

 “Because I just learned that Sherma was a closet Decepticon.”

 Prowl snapped his fingers and immediately started putting the pieces together. “Sherma and Momus weren’t killed by Decepticons-they were killed because they were Decepticons.” He took out a datapad. “I’m sending a preliminary report to Flatfoot.”

 “It’ll get “lost”- trust me.” Orion said bitterly. “It’s in the senate’s best interests to fomet anti-Decepticon feeling.”

 Prowl looked at him dryly. “Well, I hope I never get to be as jaded and cynical as you, Orion Pax.”

 Cromedome sighed. “Why only a preliminary report, Prowl?”

 “I want to know precisely what killed this bot before I sign anything off. We need a full atopsy.”

 “No need: you’re looking at a classic case of Spark rejection. Before the Relinquishment Clinics were regulated, they’d slam Sparks into anything. Bodygloving they used to call it.” Orion shook his head. “The Spark tended to overheat if the host body was subjected to physical or mental stress.”

 Chromedome nodded. “I think both our suspects were bodygloving. It would explain why the bot I chased was such a bad flyer: he was honeymooning in someone’s body.”

 “Probably to hide their identities.” Prowl deduced. He looked over at Pax and saw him talking on his phone. “Pax, you got anything?”

 “I’ve just asked Roller for details of any relinquishment clinics in the vicinity-seems our best shot of finding out who the killers really are and-“

 “ _Pax?”_

_“_ Well look at that,” Orion whistled. “A new record.”

 “ _There are 26 clinics in the greater Iacon area. The closest is only a few kliks away. Opposite the shrine to Solomus.”_ Roller reported.

 “On my way.”

 “ _Not so fast big guy, there’s something else. I’ve just taken an emergency call-you’re needed on Solomus.”_

XXXXXX

 Solomus was Cybertron’s second moon, smaller than its larger twin Epistemus, and harbored its own native population of Minicons. Famous for its hot spots, after they cooled, the moon became known for its energon mines and later accommodating the first maximum security prison, Garrus-1.

 Orion took a shuttle to Solomus and arrived at the prison, where one of the guards took him to the prison block to see the bot who wanted to meet him-Whirl.

 He knew about Whirl, a lot of people did thanks to Megatron. He was one of Senator Proteus’s enforcers who got arrested for beating up a prisoner, who also happened to be the mech leading the Decepticon revolution. Orion was sorely tempted to return the favor for all the scrap he paused, but upon seeing the mech in person, his aggression faded away into pity.

 “You have five minutes, ten if I hear screaming.” The guard said before leaving Orion alone with Whirl.

 Whirl had seen better days. He looked like the entire prison had used him as a punching bag, beating him short of actually killing him. Unknown to Orion at that time, Whirl’s thinly-disguised appearance in Megatron’s latest polemic had led to every proto-Decepticon wanting to take a pop at him-hell, the miners next door were getting themselves arrested in hopes of getting within killing distance with him.

 “Whirl? What happened to you?” Orion asked. “Who did this?”

 “Don’t worry, Pax. I’m making a list.” Whirl grumbled.

 “You have rights, you know. If you get into a fight, they’re obliged to patch you up.”

 “I appreciate the feigned concern, but I didn’t call you here to bleat.” Whirl looked at him with one cracked optic.

 “Why did you call me here?” Orion asked.

 “Your friend is in danger.”

 Orion froze. “Which friend?”

 “I don’t know his name. He’s a senator.” He explained. “They know he fraternizes with you and that he’s working against them-the senate. They’re gonna kill him.”

 “How do you know this?”

 “A cellmate-one of my handlers. He must have friends in very high places, because he arrived yesterday and let this morning, and has he went he said, ‘It’s all gonna kick off. Before the week is out, Proteus will break his promise and Sentinel will make his move’.”

 “That’s all he said?” Orion Spark was pulsing like ball lightning. This was more serious than he thought.

 “No, he mentioned a bomb-‘A bomb so big it’ll take the name of the city it destroys’. He said it’ll be hidden in plain sight.” Whirl hung his head. “That’s all. I hope it’s enough.”

 “I underestimated you.” Orion said, staring down at Whirl in a new light. “I never pegged you as a straightforward criminal-I know you and the senate had history just by looking at you-but I underestimated your compassion.”

 “No, you underestimated my thirst for revenge.” He growled. “The senate mutilated me, got me to do their dirty work, and abandoned me. I want you to hunt them. I want you to crush them. I want…I want…”

Whirl gave a whimper and looked at his clawed hands. “I want my hands back.”

XXXXXX

Prowl and Chromedome stood off to the side as they saw a group of Decepticons protesting the registration act on their way to the relinquishment clinic. It was a sizeable protest group, one made of miners and laborers. In fact, Prowl even noticed the green and purple forms of the Constructicons in their vehicle modes, with the leader acting as a platform for the rally leader to say his words.

 “The senate used to blame us for every terrorist attack this side of Nova Peak! And now-suddenly-with the announcement of the D.R.A., Proteus says he’s prepared to engage with us?” The leader shouted. “I say no! it’s nothing but a ploy to keep us distracted-to make sure we play at being good little citizens. He has no intention, none whatsoever, of keeping his promise. Why? Because he hates us! He fears us!

“If Proteus truly believed that our voices deserved to be heard, he’d grant us political party status with a wave of his hand-instead he sets some arbitrary quota!”

 Chromedome shook his head at the sorry sight. “Ever wonder where this is heading?”

 “Who doesn’t? the newsfeed service says there’s a Decepticon presence in every geosector now.” Prowl said. “I don’t know, that sounds…I don’t know.”

 “I have a friend, a hostage negotiator, who says the Decepticon movement is attracting everyone from the Cyberutopians to the Anti-Vocationist League.”

 “You send out a message, you can’t control who hears it.”

 “That’s just it-my friend thinks it’s all about job emancipation, but I think it’s more than that.” Chromedome lowered his voice. “I think this is about a new world order.”

 Prowl gave him a skeptical look, but Chromedome continued on. “If the senator keeps tightening the Clampdown and the Decepticon movement keeps growing, we could be looking at a full-blown insurgency. I’m not-you’ll say I’m being an alarmist, but I can see it happening.”

 “This can be diffused. Trust me.” Prowl reassured him.

 “But if we did got to war, would you fight?” Chromedome asked.

 “It won’t come to-“

 “Yes, but of you did.”

 “If it did, I’d leave. I have no wish to live amongst chaos.”

 “You’d leave Cybertron? What about me?”

 Prowl’s steely face melted into a soft expression as he looked at his partner. “…I assumed that you’d come with me.”

XXXXXX

 They made it to the relinquishment clinic, which admittedly looked just as depressing as the rest of the rundown street they drove down. They announced themselves and waited patiently in the lobby, their earlier conversation still fresh in their minds. The uncomfortable silence was broken by a news report on the videopane.

_“In breaking news, we can report that the Decepticon movement has been cleared of any involvement in the murders of Senator Sherma and Momus. The head of the IMP, Flatfoot of Polyhex Minor, has in the past few minutes confirmed that the killings were carried out by two pro-functionist agitants, both of whom were killed trying to escape IMP investigators. More on the story as it develops…”_

“What?!” Prowl yelled. “ I said explicitly it a preliminary report! Pre-lim-in-ary! As in not the final version. Why in the name of the Underbase has Flatfoot decided to-“

 “Shh-we’ve got company.” Chromedome shushed his partner and nodded to the mech walking towards them. “You must be Trepan.”

 Trepan, the head doctor in the clinic, was a short and lanky mech who’s alt mode was obvious not anything mobile. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. If you’re here about the special offer on triple changers, I’m afraid there all on loan at the moment.”

 Chromedome eyed Trepan’s hand, which sported a series of long, thin needles extending from his fingertips. “Interesting hand you got there.”

 “Sorry, yes I was in the middle of something.” Trepan said. Prowl cleared his throat.

 “Sir, we’re from the IMP. I’d like to talk to you about these two individuals.” He held up the images of the two bots convicted in the murder case. “We have reason to believe they might have been donors…”

 Trepan frowned and shook his head. “I’ve never seen them before.”

 “Take a good look.”

 Before Prowl could inquire further, Chromedome snatched up Trepan’s hand and looked at the writing on his wrist. “What’s this?”

 “Nothing, an engraving.” Trepan answered. “It’s in old Cybertronian “ _Everyone’s shape serves a purpose”.”_

 “I can read old cybertronian,” Chromedome said. That caused Trepan’s façade to crack and he laughed nervously.

 “Really? Ah, right, well-in that case sorry.” He cleared his throat to cover his slip-up. “It says “ _Cleanse and control”._ I er-used to work in sanitation. I changed jobs…”

 “Now I know you’re lying.”

 Ten seconds later, Trepan was cuffed and left in the storeroom behind the lobby as the two officers made their way into the clinic.

 “I didn’t know you read old cybertronian.” Prowl whispered.

 “I can’t. But I can read people and that mech was a dodgey as they come.”

 They scouted the building for anything that looked out of the ordinary. They found medical rooms with Spark extraction equipment, storage containers, body hangars, etc, but just when it seemed that they came up dry, they found a map of the clinic on the wall near the back of the building that showed some peculiar things. And under it was a staircase that went downward.

 “What is this place?” Prowl inquired as he read the captions on the directory. “Destabilization center, phobia control, modification ward?”

 “I don’t like the looks of those directions.”

 They steeled themselves and went down the stairs, ending up at the end of a long hallway with rooms on both sides. They were careful to keep out of sight as they inspected the rooms, which seemed to get more morbid and depressing as they went deeper into the facility. There were like operating theaters, some showing doctors poking around in the heads of bots-who were still conscious, and three rooms that were filled wall to wall with bots that had their heads carved out and their brain modules missing. They were lobotomized, and potentially dead if the modules were harmed too severely for the Spark to maintain itself.

 But what they found next was the disturbing part.

 They came upon one last room, the largest on the floor, and inside were dozens of bots, cerebroscientists, working at operating tables, poking and probing into brain modules ferried in from god knows where. These bots were clearly professionals and had been doing this job for a long time. And Chromedome immediately knew what they were doing.

 “The Institute?” Prowl said after hearing his partner’s conclusion.

 “Come on, if you had to design a faculty of dedicated brainwashing, to rewriting your personality, it would work exactly like this.” He said.

 Prowl shook his head and stepped away from the window. “You’re talking about state-sponsored menticide. Even if it were possible technologically-“

 “It is! They isolate the centers of the memory and emotion in your brain, remove everything that defines you and implant new patterns of behavior.” Chromedome shook his head with a sigh. “It’s a forbidden science, it hasn’t got a proper name. They just call it Shadowplay.”

 Mnemosurgery involved delving into another mechanoid’s mind via physical contact with their neuronet, like connecting two computers together. This allowed unrestrained access to the patient’s mind, their thoughts, their memories, all open to the practitioner like a movie. This practice was still considered controversial among the public even now, but it didn’t stop Chromedome from studying the subject. Bots studying mnemosurgery are psyhiactrically evaluated, but there was still some room for abuse. A skill surgeon could rewrite an entire bot’s personality, creating a whole new person in the span of a few minutes. A person’s entire life, memories, experiences, in the face of mnemosurgery, it was all a drop in the bucket.

 Chromedome looked away from the troubling sight and saw a computer terminal nearby. He quickly got on the console and did a quick search for their body-snatching criminals and hit pay dirt.

 “Here we go, Fallout and Streaker,” He read. “Fallout donated his body five years ago, Streaker not long after. Primus knows who was using their bodies…”

 “Anything else on there?”

 Chromedome pressed a button and saw another list a names, one that was significantly longer. “Another list, thousands of names, organized according to threat level.”

 “Upload it and let’s go, quickly.” Prowl urged. “We need to talk about how we’re going to deal with this. Right now, I’m not even sure if any laws are being broken.”

XXXXXX

 When they went back upstairs, Trepan was already gone, cuffs and all, and Chromedome wanted to chase the mech down to arrest him. Prowl, who was still trying to process what he just saw in the secret area, tried to argue him out of hunting the guy down, but a call from Orion Pax cut into their plans.

 At his request, they met up with Pax at the Rodion police station, where they also met another senator, a “friend” of Pax’s alongside Ratchet. Chromedome explained what they found at the Institute and showed them the data he downloaded, and it was then that the seemingly random pieces started falling into place.

 “That’s it, that’s the list.” Quake said upon seeing the list.

 “The list?”

 “The Decepticon Registration Act-that’s the list of registrants. I recognize some of the names.”

 “Why would the senate be interested in-oh.” Ratchet frowned. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

 “The senate wants to lobotomize Decepticons.” Chromedome said. “Surgically remove the impulse to rebel.”

 “But on what pretext? Not even Sentinel would round them up without an excuse.”

 “The murders-Sherma and Momus.”

 “Too small,” Quake frowned. “Besides, why would they be killed before the registration had been closed? It’s in his interest to get as many as possible to register.”

 “Okay, I like a good conspiracy as much as the next bot, but this is where me and this conversation part ways.” Prowl said firmly. It all sounded so absurd to him.

 “Wait, give me a second.” Orion sighed and thought hard about it. “Okay, say the DRA is the senate’s way of flushing out the enemy. But the Decepticons don’t trust the senate-why would they, after all the propaganda?-so registration is poor. Proteus starts to panic-he only gets one shot at this. He arranges for Sherma and Momus to be murdered, knowing that the Decepticons will expect the senate to blame them. Instead by refusing to jump at conclusions, he can use their death to demonstrate his evenhandedness and convince the skeptics that he’s no longer anti-Decepticon.

 “But he needs the murder investigation to go above board so he makes sure the task of finding out the “truth” is given to a pair of scrupulous investigators. When the Decepticons are cleared of any wrong doing, Proteus looks like a model of probity. The result-a last minute surge in registrants.”

 “That’s why Flatfoot was so quick to send a preliminary report to the senate.” Chromedome said.

 “Flatfoot’s in on this to?” Prowl gaped and groaned. “Of course! Why not?”

 “Hang on. If enough Decepticons register, then Proteus is obligated to make them a political party.” Ratchet noted.

 “Not if they show their “true colors”.” Orion said.

 “The bomb that Whirl mentioned,” Quake muttered. “Proteus is going to blame that on the Decepticons!”

 “Proteus gets to break his promise and Sentinel gets his excuse to round up everyone on the list and brainwash them, render them passive and docile.”

 “Great! A bomb’s about to go off any day now, and we don’t know where.” Chromedome groaned.

 “Hey big guy,” Roller called out, pointing to the videoscreen. “Check this out.”

 “… _exclusive footage of Nominus Prime’s body being laid in the Primal Bascilla. Tomorrow the first of an estimated million mourners will view his corpse. For many, it will be the first time they have seen the Matrix up close.”_

Something in Orion’s mind clicked and he made the final connection. “The Matrix-the fake Matrix-they’ve turned it into a bomb. A bomb that’ll kill thousands and desecrate a religious landmark-the ultimate act of provocation. We have to stop it.”

 “But how?” Ratchet asked. “We can’t tell the senate, we can’t tell the mechaforencis, we can’t trust anyone.”

 “We have to handle this ourselves. We have to neutralize the threat.”

 “What are you saying?” Quake asked, but he already had a feeling on where this was going.

 “I’m saying,” Orion looked at those present, his blue eyes shining with determination. “We have to steal the Matrix.”

XXXXXX

**Part 3: An Intimate Beheading**

 Prowl sulked outside the station. After Orion and the others formulated their plan, he finally had enough of the absurdity of it all and just left the building. He spent the last 17 minutes outside just staring at the skyline of Iacon, quiet and peaceful, though inherently more dangerous since the attempt on the last Prime’s life.

 “Prowl?” Orion walked up behind him. “Your partner was looking for you earlier. He’s gone to the Academy with Roller to get help.”

 “Which means you’re actually going to go through with this.” Prowl said.

 Orion sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

 “Good! Good, because I don’t! Let me spell it out for you so you can hear the mounting incredulity in my voice. On a hunch, you’re going to assemble a team of “specialists” to break into the Primal Bascilla and steal the Matrix from Nominus Prime’s corpse,” Prowl whirled on Orion and got in his face, his anger rising. “Why? Because you think that the Matrix is actually a bomb that’ll kill hundreds of civilians. And we can’t tell our respective superiors because everyone’s in on it. Apart from your so-called senator friend, who just happens to be the one good mech in a rotten system.”

 Orion didn’t move an inch, unfazed by Prowl’s hostility. “You’re skeptical.”

 “Skeptical? Pax, I think you’re mad.”

 “But you were the one who found the Institute.”

 “I don’t know what I saw.”

 “Well, your partner seems to-“

 “My partner seems to have fallen under your spell, just like everyone else.” Prowl deflated and leaned against his skydart. “Look, he’s good at his job, not that’d I ever tell him, but he’s going to throw it all away for the sake of this…escapade.”

 “Prowl, wait…”

 “Listen, this goes against the very grain of my being, but…I won’t tell anyone about your little heist if you promise to do one thing for me. Keep him out of this.”

 Orion said nothing as he watched Prowl mount his skydart and fly away. He exhaled and rubbed his forehead, already feeling like he aged a vorn. He didn’t need this stress before committing what could be probably riskiest act of heroism or the most heinous sin against all of cybertronian kind. He went back inside the station and saw Chromedome and Roller returning with some new friends of theirs.

 “Hey guys,” Chromedome said brightly. “We found some friends.”

 Orion whistled. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting you to find anyone who would help us.”

 “It’d was surprisingly easy.” Roller said. “All it took was mentioning Quake’s name and that was all it took.”

 Quake smiled at the team of mechs. “Well, the Academy of Advanced Technology has always been a safe haven. You see, there’s a variation among our race. Certain bots with gifts that set them apart.”

 “Outliers.” Orion said. He thought of Elita-1 and wondered if she was still worried of his well being, or had resigned herself to dealing with the tragedy of his eventual death. And he also remembered how distressed she was at the thought of the functionists discovering her true nature. “You’ve taken them in as strays.”

 “I help hone their skills. Protect them from prosecution.” Quake said. “You know how the functionists hate outliers because their existence undermines the principles of mode determinism. An outlier’s gift bears no relation to their alt mode, you see. I have a student who can generate force fields and he turns into a truck. What’s the link? There is no link.”

 “Is he the one with the claws?”

 “No, that’s Glitch. Well, we call him Glitch.” Quake turned to the red mech with one eye and three pronged hands, signs of a humiliating torture that was exuded upon him. “He’s an empurata victim who can render non-sentient machinery inoperative simply by touching it. One day, he’ll be able to apply his skills from a distance.”

 Quake introduced the rest of their team: Windcharger, who was a levitator-a living electromagnet who channeled his power through arms. Then there was the jittery blue mech named Skids, who may be an outlier with a less flashy power-he was a congenital expert, a superlearner. He acquired new skills as often as a bot gets a new paint job.

Orion saw something drawn on the side of Skids’ cheek and leaned in uncomfortably close to the mech to inspect it.

 “Is…anything wrong?” Skids asked.

 “You’re wearing a miniature Matrix. Nothing’s wrong. You just remind me of a friend. He was religious to.” Orion replied, thinking back to how Dion saw the Matrix as a holy relic of great power and importance. That gave him an idea. “Chromedome?”

 Chromedome, who was busy punching the wall to vent out his rage at Prowl ditching him at the station, paused in his abuse of non-living objects to give Pax his attention. “What?”

 “I need you to do something for me.”

XXXXXX

 ‘How did I get roped into this?’ Chromedome thought gloomily the next day. ‘Oh yeah, because Prowl decided to ditch me, the bastard.’

 He marched through the doors of the mechaforensics division and gave the receptionist a half-assed greeting as he made his way towards the ballistics department, where they developed new weapons of the trade to be deployed. From full blown weapons to variable ammunition, this was where the ever evolving war on crime got its sweet digs from. It was also a place where bots who worked there got little recognition, not even a thank you. Chromedome himself barely visited this part of the station, but Orion had assigned him an important task that had to be done before time ran out. No pressure.

 “Ironfist?” He poked his head into a heavy cluttered room filled with junk from nearly every era.

 Inside, a short white and blue mech with a grilled mouth plate and bright yellow eyes sat at his crowded desk tinkering with an ungodly amount of old school memorabilia. “Oh! Sorry, sir, I was just-well, come on in!”

 “Is now a good time?”

 “Now’s a glorious time!” Ironfist said, eyes wide and sparkling. He never got many visitors that were just there to talk. “I’ve just bought the power booster rod that Delta Magnus used to trick the Neathians into thinking that he was a god!”

 “Wow,” Chromedome said, trying not to be rude and hoping that this guy wasn’t for real. “That’s…that’s…”

 “I know!” Ironfist laughed. “Please sir, take a seat. I’ll show you the rest of my haul.”

 As a ballistics expert, Ironfist lived on site at the station in his crew quarters, but he was a loner who found solace in collecting old relics and knick-knacks in substitution for having a general lack of friends. This week, his interest was in Delta Magnus and the Primal Vanguard. Many of his peers and co-workers, but Chromedome wanted to throw the kid a bone. Unfortunately, to Ironfist, that meant he was a fellow hoarder.

 “This is the forever glass from Moladive VI-the one that traps light?” He held up a mirror that showed not a reflection, but a still image of a mech’s horrified face. “You can still see Crosscut’s reflection. He’s watching the neuroparasite climb out of Ambit’s mouth. Glorious…”

 He grabbed a drill and held it up. “This is Borebit’s spare drill, and somewhere around here is a bomb disposal kit used by-“

 “Ironfist!” Chromedome exclaimed and sighed. “Just, relax. Put down the drill and step away from the memorabilia.”

 “I’m sorry, I got carried away.” Ironfist looked down. “Don’t say anything to Prowl. He told Flatfoot I was spending too much time on my hobby and confiscated my life sized model of Delta Magnus.”

 And here’s that opportunity he was waiting for. “Well, how would you like to get Delta Magnus back?”

 “Yes! I mean-how?”

 “I need a favor. Have you ever heard of the Decepticons?”

 “The Decepticons?” Ironfist’s genuine confusion made the question sadder than it should be. “No, should I have?”

 Chromedome face-palmed so hard that he dented his forehead. “Oka, forget about the Decepticons. You’ve heard of the Matrix, right?”

 “Sir, please, I have a life outside of the Primal Vanguard you know!”

 “But I’m right in thinking that the Vanguard as the custodians of the Matrix during the-“

 “The Interregnum, sir, yes. Nova Prime disappeared and Delta Magnus carried the Matrix until a successor was appointed. It was a glorious chapter in their glorious history.”

 Ironfist liked to say ‘glorious’ all the time. It was Delta’s catchphrase.

 “I’ve written several monographs if you want to-“

 “No thanks!” Chromedome nearly shouted and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, please. But first, that favor.”

XXXXX

 “A perfect replica of the Matrix. Exact in every detail.” Chromedome said proudly as he held the little bauble up to the others.

 “Outstanding work, Chromedome! I could hug you!” Quake laughed.

 Orion clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone, attention please. Windcharger can you just-can you put Skids down for a second? Thank you.”

 He cleared his throat and began explaining the game plan. “Now, last night, Ratchet was given a guided tour of the Primal Bascilla. His “health and safety inspection” gave him a chance to familiarize himself with the Bascilla’s security systems.”

 “The good news is it is virtually impossible to try to break into the Bascilla without getting killed.” Ratchet said.

 “That’s the good news?” Windcharger scowled.

 “I draw your attention to the word ‘virtually’.” The medic replied. “As well as a fleet of sky spies, the building is surrounding by a no-fly zone, the air is laced with gluometric particles that scramble onboard guidance systems-I know, I hadn’t heard of them either. The point is, any aircraft passing within 25 miles of the Bascilla will crash.

 “The perimeter itself is guarded by the senate’s Triloian Guard-nearly a hundred multi-terrain triple changers, all of them under orders to kill suspected troublemakers on sight, with emphasis on kill or suspected depending on which guard you talk to. Nominus Prime’s body is on the high alter not far from the Atrium. The entire floor is covered in hypersensitive panels: anything heavier than a shadow will set off the alarm.” He continued. “And when the Bascilla’s in lockdown; which it will be tonight, every square inch of the interior space is dissected by tracer beams. Break a beam or step on a pressure panel and 98 trigger happy guards will run, fly or drive through the portico doors.”

 “What I’m about to propose is highly necessary and highly dangerous, but first, I’m giving all of you the opportunity to walk away.” Orion said. “If you choose to stay, thank you and listen carefully, because here’s how we’re going to do this…”

XXXXXX

 It was at the dead of night that the operation had begun. Orion, Ratchet, and their group of specialists had traveled to the large, golden dome of the Primal Bascilla, the place where the new Prime was officially elected into office. Roller stayed behind with Chromedome and Quake and was working on hacking into the sky spy network, replacing the real time footage with old images to make it seem like a quiet night.

 From the roof of a nearby building, Windcharger used his magnetic powers to levitate the team on a metal slab, initiating a vertical descent designed to lower their chances of being spotted. It was touch on Windcharger, would could only lift one person at a time, but he pulled through with an amazing amount of grace. Once they made it onto the Chamber, they quickly got to work on the detector beams.

 Glitch, who barely said anything from the start, was tasked with deactivating the generator on the roof long enough for Orion to swoop in and switch the Matrixes. But this part had a strict time limit.

 “Ow, ow, ow!” Glitch hissed.

 “Shh! What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Orion asked.

 “It always hurts! And-ow!-it’s going to get worse.” His arms were already starting to tremble on the generator, as if he was lifting something heavy. “This generator powers a lot of beams; any minute now, I’m either going to scream or pass out.”

 “Skids, move up!”

 Skids pushed past Ratchet and crawled into the vent, were he reached the hatch above Nominus’s body. He shifted his right hand into a grappling line and tied it to Orion’s foot.

 “I should have said this earlier, but as a trainee theoretician who can master virtually any skill, I’m kind of insulted that you brought me along for my grappling hook.”

 “Sorry Skids, but this job requires a more utilitarian approach.” Orion patted him on the shoulder and Skids lowered him into the atrium.

 The chamber was dead quiet, but Orion felt as if the silence was the loudest thing to him at the moment. He tried to ignore the sightless glares of the Nova Prime statues as he got lower to the body, and kept urging Skids to extend the line until he was just a few inches above the body.

 “Okay, I’ve got an angle.” Orion whispered. “I’m opening his chest now.”

 Orion, using Ratchet’s medical knowledge, pressed a few pads on the sides of Nominus’s torso to open his chest plate, but once the cavity opened up, he gave a curse.”

 “Ratchet, we have a problem.”

XXXXXX

 “I’m telling ya, Chromedome, Pax said you’re staying here.” Roller said, lazily watching the videopane. “Boss’s orders.”

 Chromedome just groaned. “I don’t know how you can just be sitting there, Roller. I should be with Pax stopping a plan of sabotage. Not-“

 “Nursemaiding me?” Quake grumbled.

 “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” The headmaster said. He and Quake stood side by side watching Roller flip through channels on the television. “I just can’t believe Pax told me to stay behind.”

 “For what it’s worth, this “protective custody” arrangement? I think Pax is being overcautious,” Quake said. “The fact is, I’m too high profile for Sentinal to risk…oh no…”

 Quake’s Spark froze as he saw new footage of his academy, his life’s work, ablaze in towering flames. Roller straightened up and increased the volume.

 “… _Academy of Advanced Technology, where teams of pyrobots are struggling to contain a blaze which the authorities are blaming on a faulty propex conduit. Reports suggest that…”_

“We are in serious trouble.” Quake noted. Then they heard a loud knock at the doors. Roller got his blaster and jogged to the main lobby.

 “I got this.”

 “Roller,” Chromedome ran after him. “I don’t really think you should-“

 “Hide, both of you.” Roller waved him off. “Go on, shoo! I’ll deal with this.”

 Not a second later, the front doors were destroyed in an explosion that blaster Roller back into Chromedome. As the smoke cleared, two mechs stood amidst the rubble with two large bots in black armor behind them.

 “Best. Tip off. Ever.” Kroma grinned.

XXXXXX

 “Ratch? I said we have a problem?”

 “I heard you, Pax just-“ Ratchet knelt down next to Skids. “Glitch is about to pass out due to exertion-related neuralgia, and Skids’ arm has nearly popped out of its glenohumeral socket. Or, in layman’s terms, hurry up.”

 “I can’t, it’s the Matrix.”

 “Don’t tell me: it’s not there.” Ratchet groaned.

 “No, it’s here, it’s just held in place very securely.” Orion said. Below him, the fake Matrix was practically molded to Prime’s chest cavity with damn near every lock he could think of. “It’s going to take me hours to pick these.”

 “In that case, you better let me handle this.”

 A few minutes later, Ratchet was now being lowered into the chamber so that he could get a better grasp on the locks in question. He studied the mechanism for a minute and hummed.

 “Okay. They’ve wired it in like a tamper proof fuel pump. A 440, the mother of all fuel pumps. If I put a finger wrong, it’ll explode.” Ratchet observed.

 “In that case, don’t do anything. Not even you can disable a 440 by hand.”

 “Pax, I think you’re amazing,” Ratchet said as he started tinkering with the locks. “But that is the most hamfisted attempt at reverse psychology I’ve ever heard.”

 It was like doing one of his operations, pressing a few points here while working on another area at the same time, and also making sure not to press too hard to cause anything to rupture. He only needed a few minutes to work on the rigged fuel pump before he unhooked the final lock and pulled out the Matrix.

 “Got it!” He grinned and started to install the replica. “I’m putting the replica Matrix in its place.

 “Quick as you can old friend,” Orion said. He tried to calm himself, but it was hard to relax after doing what they just did. He still couldn’t believe they actually made it past the hard part. Still, the mission wasn’t over until they got out of there in one piece.

 “I’m done. Pull me up!”

 “Nicely done. Good work Skids.” Glitch laughed, slapping a hand on Skids’ shoulder and immediately realizing what he just did. “Slag!”

 “Don’t touch me, you gearstick! You’ll-“ Skids felt his arm jerk and the tow line jam. “You’ve jammed the winch!”

 The sudden stop jostled Ratchet and startled him. He lost his grip on the bomb and tried to catch it, but couldn’t get a proper hold on it. He cursed as he saw it fall to the floor.

 “Brace yourselves everyone! It’s going to…” Ratchet opened his eyes (he didn’t recall shutting them) and saw the Matrix floating in the air under him. “Huh? It’s just hovering there!”

 “You can thank Windcharger and his magic arms for that.” Orion said, smiling at Windcharger as he held the bombastic bauble in place.

 “You’re lucky I got tired of waiting.” Windcharger grinned.

 “His magic arms and his low boredom threshold.” Orion chuckled. “We’ll pull you up and get outside.”

 Within seconds they got the good doctor back into the shaft and quickly made their way back outside. Once they were all back on the basin, Windcharger started to lower them to the ground.

 “So, bauble or bomb?” Skids asked. He stared at the Matrix with wide eyes, expecting to be struck down for taking part in its theft. He wasn’t overly religious, but he got the feeling that they pissed off someone with this stunt.

 “No, no, it’s a bomb.” Ratchet confirmed. He studied the crystal inside. “Look, the facets here and here are thermobarbic plates, and there’s even a trigger pad-although I suspect they’d have to detonate this remotely.”

 “Holy slag, it really is a bomb.” Glitch breathed. “Those bastards were going to kill hundreds just to frame the Cons!”

 “Can we go any faster, Windcharger?” Orion asked. “I’d be better off driving…”

 “’Fraid not, magnetic travel is all one speed. What’s the rush?”

 “Roller was supposed to call me and he hasn’t.”

 “Well if you’re serious about driving, I can let us down, or if you’re really in a hurry you can jump.”

 No one expected Pax to actually jump, but then again they don’t know him very well. He leapt over the side and fell down nearly a story to the ground, hitting the street in his vehicle mode. The others watched him go with wide eyes and open mouths.

 “He actually-wow.” Windcharger said. Ratchet could only shake his head and question his taste in friends.

XXXXXX

 Quake struggled in the Heavy’s two-handed grip, but could get free of the modified brute. In front of him, Kroma, the mech leading the operation as a member of Sentinel’s “security” force, smirked at the now trapped senator.

 “What a lot of trouble you’ve caused. Flirting with agitators is one thing, but building an army of outliers? What did you think was Sentinel was going to do when he found out?”

 “Got to hell, Kroma!” Quake hissed.

 “You’re going to be cleansed and controlled, and it’s been a long time coming.” Kroma said. “If I was a more compassionate person I’d shoot you in the head. As it is, I-“

 Kroma was surprised when a large red truck smashed through the Heavy’s torso, killing him and knocking Kroma back. Orion transformed and jumped in front of Quake, pointing his gun at Kroma.

 “Pax!” Quake exclaimed.

 “Leave this to me, senator.” Orion said.

 “I don’t want to fight, Pax. I want to swap.” Kroma pointed his photon rifle at the back of Roller’s head. “Hand him over or I flash-fry this one’s brain. Well?”

 Orion fingered the trigger, but didn’t fire. He was sure he could hit Kroma’s head from here, but if he missed, then there wouldn’t be a second chance. He was still weighing his possible options when Quake placed a hand on his arm and lowered the gun.

 “Don’t try, Orion. It’s me he wants.” Quake said.

 “Wait! What are you-!”

 “It’s over, Pax. My fight ends here. I’m surrendering.”

 Quake walked over to Kroma, who cuffed him. He turned back and gave Orion a resigned smile. “Remember me as I was.”

 As the senator was handed over to his partner, Kroma glanced at Orion, who was shaking with anger. “What are you going to do with him?”

 “Oh, you’ll see him again.” Kroma smirked. “Then again, given what Anvil is about to do to you, maybe you won’t.”

 Orion was suddenly smacked aside by a large fist and went crashing through two walls before crashing into a desk and hitting the ground. Anvil, the other Heavy that he missed, stomped towards him.

 “Gonna kill you. Gonna kill you good.” Anvil growled, his limited intelligence clearly a side effect of having most of his body’s auxiliary power routed to his musculature servo array. “You say anything?”

 “You mean, do I have any last words?” Orion coughed. “Well, yes actually, I do. I have only one thing to say. Run.”

 His chest plate opened and he took out the Matrix bomb, pressing the trigger before tossing it at Anvil and taking cover. Seconds later, there was a bright blue explosion that killed the Heavy and took out a good portion of the room along with it and beyond.

 On the 5th chord of 4th cycle Sol, sky spy 12-0185 recorded the explosion that reduced Rodion police headquarters to a crater.

XXXXXX

 Orion would later dig up Chromedome after regaining consciousness and together they would go off to rescue Quake from the one place they knew he would be taken to-the Institute. They raced through the still empty streets and drove as fast as their wheels could take them to the relinquishment clinic Chromedome and Prowl visited earlier.

 What they didn’t know was that this Institute was only one of many, a whole underground network. The name was to mislead people into thinking there was only one. So when Orion and Chromdome reach the facility, they found nothing. The bodies, the cerbroscientists, the Spark storage units, all gone without a trace. And with it, their only lead to the senator.

 The trail had gone cold. They lost.

XXXXX

 Archer sat at his desk inside the Institute facility in Nova Cronum. The videoscreen on his desk was showing a news report that he thought was terribly ironic given his current occupation.

_“Amputee support groups have called on the senate to outlaw the controversial Empurata ritual.”_ Said a reporter. The camera switched to one Empurata victim with the common cone-shaped head and single eye. “ _Any government that mutilates its citizens for the express purpose of precipitating social stigma is, frankly, unfit to govern.”_

_“But a spokesperson for the senate defended the ancient practice, saying that head and hand treatment was reserved for criminals who deserved to be publicly humiliated.”_

_“_ Changeover,” Ruk called out as he walked over to his desk. “Anything to report?”

 “Not really. They brought someone in for treatment. A screamer.” Archer said. He switched the monitor to a camera feed of the operation that was going on. “Here’ take a look at what they’re doing to him.”

 “Jeez. Empurata and shadowplay?”

 “The empurata is just out of spite-they know he was forged, but the shadowplay,” Archer shrugged. “Lobe calls it total personality inversion. ‘It’s the most ambitious piece of cerebral re-engineering I’ve ever attempted. By the time-“

 “That’s supposed to be Lobe?”

 “Shut your stupid blue face.. ‘By the time I’m don’t with him, he’ll be lucky to must an emotional response to anything.”

 Ruk looked at the patient ID. I know this guy. He’s supposed to be a politician right?”

 “I guess so. Must be if he managed to piss Sentinel off.”

 “What’s his name?”

 They looked at the monitor to see surgeons working on a dark purple body, implanting the senator’s brain module into a hexagonal head with a single yellow eye, what’s left of his old cranial unit sitting on a blood soaked tray.

 “Shockwave.”

 

 


	11. Tragic Scream

Chapter 11-Tragic Scream

 1st cycle 502. A few months, close to a year after Nominus Prime’s funeral service. Sentinel, who has been marked for showing the Affinity for the “Matrix”, was elected as a the new Prime and made it his personal mission to stamp out opposition to the Clampdown and crackdown on any dissidents who tried to openly rebel against the world order that _he_ helped enforce. He absorbed nearly half of Iacon’s militia, the Primal Vanguard and law enforcement into his Elite Guard and made them into a planetary force the keep the peace, though in reality, it was just his way of tightening the hold he had over the states that weren’t Decepticon oriented. The Decepticons in question had become more violent after Proteus failed to deliver with his promise, something that still pissed the Prime off to this day.

 It was for this reason that Sentinel wanted Orion Pax’s head. He wanted revenge for the cop’s foiling of his plans, a setback that had backfired on him severely. Now instead of being branded enemies of the state, the Decepticons were now more powerful than ever and had bots in nearly every city-state at this point. Pax had been a thorn in the senate’s side since that fateful day in the Decagon, just like Shockwave, and like the former senator, he needed to be taken care of immediately.

 Which was completely fine with Orion. Him stopping Sentinel’s plan had been all but a declaration of war on the senate and functionists. The senate, the Prime, the Institute, anyone involved with this grand conspiracy was his enemy now. His life and his job were but a dream now, and all he had to do was finish what Shockwave started. It was fortunate for him that one of Shockwave’s contacts, a femme named Zeta of Sistex, who gathered the rest of Shockwave’s outlier students and took them into her private militia that was secretly fighting against the senate.

 Orion knew that somewhere down the line, violence was going to become a factor in this growing conflict. He knew that his days as a member of the law enforcement caste were numbered the minute he called the senate out on their flaws, declaring himself an Autobot for all to see and taking clandestine missions to make sure that the Matrix incident never happened again. He was going to make sure that bots like Shockwave never suffered ever again, even if he had to fight the functionist council themselves.

 It was hard, these past few months. Fighting the Elite Guard and making sure that he wasn’t captured, careful to cover his tracks in the process. He had a new calling now, leading a team of patriotic rebels called the Autobots against the senate and seeking to rebuild Cybertron’s government into something greater, before the idea of war becomes something other than a fear.

 “Hya!” Orion slammed the butt of his axe into an Elite Guardsman before cutting the limb off with a downward strike. “Hey Roller?”

 “Yeah?” The heavyweight mech said, shooting down a couple of bots with his mini-gun.

 “Are you getting a sense of déjà vu?”

 “How so?”

 “Because,” He grabbed another Guardsman in a chokehold and punched him repeatedly in the nose. “I think we’ve done this before. Send them packing. Five times I think it was.” He lifted the soldier over is head and threw him off a cliff. “How many times do we have to beat them until they realize that this hot spot is under our protection?”

 “What do you expect, Pax?” Windcharger asked, using his magnetic powers (magic arms) to rip the arms off a Guardsman. “Sentinel didn’t exactly pick them for their brains.”

 “It’s not their-oof!” Skids fell back from a punch to the face and shot his grappling hook at the offender, hitting him in the nose and dragging him along the ground. “Their brains I’m worried about.”

 “No, no it’s cool. You just need to know how to deal with them.” Glitch waved his arms and the artillery tanks shut down and broke down on the spot. The empurata victim laughed as the pilots abandoned their stuff and started to run. “See? Break their stuff and they run home crying.”

 “They’re retreating!” Orion declared, firing his blaster after them. “I think it was the banter that did it. I’d be running to.”

 “You call that running? I’ve seen continents move quicker than that.” Roller transformed into his long truck mode and drove after the fleeing soldiers. “Let me help you on your way!”

 He slammed into the group and sent half a down flying in different directions. Roller swerved around and reverted back to his robot mode as the terrified mechs made tracks in the metallic dust.

 “Haha!” Roller laughed and sighed. “Banter.”

XXXXXX

 The mission was the latest in a series of disinformation battles against the senate, but it was no less important than anything else the militia had done.

 Orion’s personal team of Autobots were camped out near the Allyon region in Cybertron’s equator, where a new hot spot-the first one to appear since the beginning of Nominus Prime’s reign-had just ignited. This would be big news had the hot spot not taken a peculiar shape, one of a large hand pressed against the surface of Cybertron. For reasons known only to the senate, this was covered up from the public.

 Zeta had intercepted satellite images of the hot spot and sent Orion and his team to the region before the Elite Guard and they’ve been successfully keeping them at bay since then. They just needed to wait for the Sparks to mature enough to be harvested, then send them somewhere safe. It was a noble cause, and no one regretted taking this mission, but hiding out in a cramped bunker without the pleasure of stretching their legs was starting to suffocate some of the bots.

 “Ugh, another day, another ass-whooping.” Glitch groaned and slumped at the table. “As much as I like beating those bastards down to size, I’m starting to chafe here.”

 “Yeah, how much longer until we can harvest the little guys?” Skids asked, looking out the window.

 “Soon,” Orion said. “According to Zeta, the Sparks should be ready to harvest either tomorrow or the day after.”

 “Thank Primus!” Someone called out. “I was getting bored of seeing the same damn landscape again.”

 Trailbreaker, another outlier with the power of generating forcefields with his hands, lumbered out of the back room stretching his arms after spending the night, and most of the morning, sleeping on a small recharge slab. He snatched up Skids’ canteen of energon and took a hard swig from it.

 “Look who’s finally awake!” Windcharger said. “Dude, you slept through the whole fight.”

 “Sorry, but I needed to sleep the dizzies off.” Trailbreaker said. “I’m still reeling from yesterday.”

 “We’re all glad to have you up and about, Traibreaker.” Orion told him and turned to the rest of his team. “Now that the recharge slabs are free, I want everybody to top themselves up. We need to be ready for another attack.”

 “So that’s it? That’s our plan?” Glitch asked “We refuel and wait for the Elite Guard to come back?”

 “No, Glitch. We refuel, savor the lull and wait for our reinforcements.” Orion replied calmly. “We’re not moving from this spot until the Sparks can be harvested.”

 Glitch didn’t look very pleased, but he relented and leaned back in his seat, glaring out the window. He switched on his internal radio and blasted some classical music in his processor, the Empyrean Suite. It was all he did these days, Glitch would either listen to that one piece of music or he would download each and every one of Megatron’s treatises into his brain. Orion figured that he knew every word from those essays at this point. The mech treated it like it was his bible.

 Orion knew that no one like the “sit and wait” moments between battles. It made everyone antsy and nervous, and that made them liable to make mistakes. It reminded Pax that they were not soldiers or cops, but were once ordinary civilians, bots who were gifted (or cursed) with abnormal powers that painted a target on their backs. They called themselves Autobots and acted like they were professionals who knew what they were doing, but in fact they didn’t have the slightest idea on their plan of action in the far future. They were just living in the moment, and they all knew that they only got as far as they did with a combination of careful planning and dumb luck.

 Nothing was set in stone. Today the senate sends the Elite Guard, but tomorrow they could send a platoon of Heavies. There were no rules of war, all bets were off as far as Sentinel was concerned, but something was holding him back from trying to scorch the land, and them, along with it.

 The Autobots had planted themselves in the Allyon region to stop the senate from killing unborn Cybertronians, but it was more complicated than that. It was clear to everyone that the senate had gained more power over the planet after the Cog’s invasion, the murder of a functionist councilman and the assassination of Nominus Prime, who was rumored to have had ties with the Functionists. As a result of this change in status quo, society became more secular and the council became less influential. Should this unique hot spot be made public, with Zeta calling it the “Hand of Primus”, many would see this as proof of Primus’ existence, making it easier for the council to reintroduce hardline functionism.

 Up until now, functionism had become more flexible as a result of the Sentinel’s actions in depowering the Legislators, and Zeta theorized that his faction were trying to destroy the hot spot to avoid the potential outcome of a functionist take over. All in all, the hot spot was the latest battleground of the cold war brewing between the senate and functionists, the state and religion. But there was one question that plagued everyone’s minds; why didn’t the Elite Guard just bomb the area and be over with it?

 Whatever the case, they just put that little inquiry on the back burner and continued on with their mission, eager to get on with their lives.

XXXXXX

 Orion plopped into a chair and groaned in exhaustion. He knew staging a rebellion was hard work, but this was certainly more stressful than working as a cop. He felt at least a stellar cycle older than when he broke away months ago.

 “You good, Pax?” Roller asked as he took a seat across from him.

 “Yeah, I’m just resting my eyes. The overcharge (adrenaline) is starting to wear off.” Orion said.

 “Here, have a drink. Should bring your power levels up.” Roller handed Pax his drink for him to sip on, but the minute he tasted it, he jerked back with a grimace.

 “Good grief, Roller! Did you add-is this C2?”

 “Don’t announce it to the entire world moron!” Roller hissed, snatching his drink back.

 “Roller, it’s dangerous. All circuit speeders are dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone links C32 to instant Spark failure.” Orion lectured with a frown. “Why are you drinking that mess anyway?”

 “I need something with a little kick.” He replied. “It helps me keep up.”

 “With who, the outliers?”

 “Don’t judge. Not everyone is born special.” Roller grumbled. Orion couldn’t believe he was hearing this.

 “Look at yourself, Roller. You’re a point-one percenter, like me! We were born special.”

 “I was born strong, and these days that get you so far. I’m not a leader like you, Pax, I can’t generate forcefields or stop things from working or-or magnetize the enemy.” Roller sighed. “I’m the obligatory strong man, brawns but no brains who dies a hero’s sacrifice so that the more important bots live. I don’t even know why you keep me around.”

 “I keep me around because you’re important to me.”

 “You keep me around because I’m your friend.”

 Orion crossed his arms. “And that’s a bad reason because…?”

 Roller had nothing to say and looked away in shame.

XXXXXX

 “Anything new, Pax?”

 “No. we’ve been here for three days and aside from their attempts to dislodge us, the Guard hasn’t done much else.”

 “That’s…unsettling.”

 Orion was talking to Zeta via transponder, with the latter’s upper body being shown as a hologram over the tiny comm device. Orion looked outside at the disc shaped aircraft floating in place over the region a few feet off the ground, right over the hot spot. It wasn’t a battle ship, only some kind of monitoring station that had arrived the previous day. They had no idea what it was or what it was doing, but Orion still kept a close eye on it in case it was packing some serious heat.

 “The Sparks still haven’t fully matured yet?” Zeta asked.

 “We’re waiting for their first flash. Once that happens, we’ll scoop ‘em up and roll out.” Orion relied. “What about those reinforcements?”

 “Sorry, Orion, but I can’t spare too many bots your side. I’m sending a few familiar faces to your position via transmat system, but it’s going to take some time.” Zeta told him. “In the meantime, keep an eye on those Sparks. They should’ve been ready to harvest by now.”

 “Will do, Zeta. Stay safe.”

 “I should be telling you that.”

 Orion signed off and looked at the computer on the table next to him. He wanted to send an encrypted message to Elita-1, to show that he was all right and still alive. That was too risky a move to make considering the senate had the data castes monitoring the DataNet for any sign of rebel movement or secret messages that hinted at terror attacks. The Autobots shared their own private channel that had been developed by Zeta’s people, but Orion wasn’t willing to risk their safety just to make a personal phone call. He would just have to hold strong until this nightmare was all over.

 ‘But when will that be?’ He thought bitterly. ‘All I can see is that things are getting worse as time goes on. How long will it be until someone declares open war and gets the party started.’

 It was another hour before the reinforcements arrived in a burst of light that came from the sky. Orbital bounces were a low costing form of teleportation, transporting an object from the ground, to the atmosphere, and back to the ground at the destination. Zeta’s science team had a relay station in orbit within a blindspot within the senate’s global satellite system, so it made getting around easier, if not for the disorientation that orbital bouncing caused. Nonetheless, the group of three bots arrived from orbit a few feet away from the base, and Orion was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face among their number.

 “Chromedome?”

 “Howdy, Pax!” Chromedome said cheerfully.

 “What’s up, aside from your head that is?” Roller grinned and patted the headmaster on the back.

 “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.” Orion said, shaking Chromedome’s hand. “I thought you followed Prowl’s example and joined Sentinel’s security forces.”

 “Prowl would tell you he has his reasons, but no. after that Matrix bombing incident, he seemed to just overlook that and joined Sentinel’s private security force to maintain order on a more “active” roster.” Chromedome grunted. “We had a little falling out over that.”

 “Sorry to hear that. I know you two were close.” Orion said.

 He invited the group to the base and studied Chromedome’s other two companions. He recognized the red mech with a digital magnifying lens over his left eye as the scientist Perceptor, who Orion heard was a known detractor of the caste system and one of Praxus’s finest scientists. The other bot was a black and yellow femme with a thin, streamlined frame with upward curving sings on her back and a yellow cockpit sitting on her chest, a flyer, probably from Vos. Her name was Skyhawk, a former Seeker who jumped ship to avoid her leader’s sociopathic tendencies. The last person was a femme that looked like she came out of a war zone. She sported a silverfish gray coloration, with a lithe form that was marked with small scratches and burns from heaven knows what caused them. Looking at her face, she had a small heart shaped head with red eyes and parts of a beast mode on her form. Orion didn’t realize who she was until he saw that feline head sitting on her chest. Then the memories came rushing back like a train.

 “You,” Orion glared at the femme named Shadowkat, who glared back at him with equal intensity. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 “The same reason as you, Pax. I’m here to save lives.” Shadowkat said.

 “That’s funny considering how many you’ve already taken.” He sneered.

 “Whoa, Pax, what’s with all the hostility?” Windcharger asked. He, along with his fellow outliers were caught off guard by their leader’s sudden anger. It was quite terrifying actually. “Zeta sent her, so she’s clean right?”

 “She’s the one who planted the bomb at Nova Square. Fifty people died in that explosion, and none of them deserved that!”

 “Don’t bother getting angry at me for what happened in the past. I did what I thought was right and paid the price for it. So quit your whining.” She grunted.

 Orion threw a punch at her face, but his fist phased through her body like she was a hologram. Roller quickly grabbed his arm before he could try again.

 “Calm down, Pax. You’re not helping anyone by acting like this.” Roller said. Orion grunted and pulled his arm free before glaring at Shadowkat.

 “I remember you being with another femme, the brute that punted me into the street. Where is she?”

 “Dead.” Shadowkat replied dully. Her blunt words made Orion wince, which was exactly what she intended. “She died when we raided the Cog.”

 “Holy slag,” Glitch muttered. “That means, you worked with Nightshade.”

 “Yes, do you know her?”

 Glitch looked away. “We’re acquaintances.”

 Shadowkat shrugged. “I won’t pry. She led the raid on the Cog and we managed to kill one of the Council members after Blackbeetle’s…passing. The rest were too powerful to handle.”

 Glitch looked like he wanted to ask more about Nightshade, but Perceptor stepped forward to gain everyone’s attention. “I’m sorry everyone, but we don’t have time for mild pleasantries. Time is of the essence.”

 “What do you mean?” Orion said.

 “On the way here, I’ve been detecting faint traces of fessile radiation in the area.” Perceptor said. “It’s barely noticeable, but it’s something to watch out for if you’re planning to stay here long term.”

 “Fessile radiation? From where?” Roller asked.

 “I can’t say for sure, the entire area is saturated with it, but the atmosphere above us is almost pristine.”

 Chromedome narrowed his visor. He knew that the place was clean from past inspection teams following the last Spark harvests that took place in the region. And Zeta never said anything about unearthing some chemical pocket from underground during past conflicts. So that ruled out anything natural, unless… “Slag!”

 “Chromedome?” Orion inquired to his sudden outburst.

 “It’s the sky platform! The radiation is coming from that thing up in the sky.” Chromedome explained. “The senate is trying to sterilize the Sparks. Snuff them out.”

 “But wouldn’t it be easier to drop a bomb?” Trailbreaker asked.

 “If you’re going to kill newborns, you’d want to do it discreetly.” Glitch said.

 “Wow, could you be any more depressing?” Skids groaned.

 “Okay, everyone just bear with me for a second. What if this isn’t murder? What if it’s an experiment?” Chromedome suggested. “Ever since Nova Prime, the senate has embraced cold construction as a means of growing the population-especially the military. But you can’t build a cybertronian with abilities like yours, Glitch or yours Trailbreaker. You can’t build an outlier. This would be Sentinel’s first opportunity in a million years to experiment on naturally occurring Sparks as they approach maturation-and maybe in the process learn enough about them to work out how to create outliers artificially. What he’s doing will probably kill them.”

 “You’re speculating,” Orion pointed out. “What you’re saying is possible, but it’s still speculation.”

 “You could say the same about the Functionist Council. They hunt down outliers themselves, but are run by a group of bots who have powers alongside a large ego.” Shadowkat said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sentinel really is doing this to cement his military power over them.”

 “I don’t buy it. If Sentinel wanted to fiddle with the Sparks, why send the Elite Guard to destroy the hot spot?” Roller asked.

 “Hey, you assumed they were here to do that.” Shadowkat huffed. “Maybe they were here to stop you all from stealing the Sparks.”

 Orion’s face grew grim. “Everyone outside. We can’t say for certain who’s up to what, but we can’t risk doing nothing.”

 He turned to Trailbreaker. “As soon as we’re on the hot spot, Trailbreaker, I want you to generate a force field and make it as big as you can.”

XXXXXX

 The Allyon hot spot was nearly a mile wide. From the air, it looked like a giant handprint pressed into the planet itself, probably a coincidence, but this was a once in a lifetime experience. Orion and his team assembled over the hot spot, in a little patch of land that wasn’t occupied by tiny Sparks half buried in the metal underneath them. Trailbreaker raised his arms and manifested a large yellowish orange force field around them and the Sparks, the largest barrier he ever made.

 “Is everyone inside?” Orion asked.

 “Clearly.” Shadowkat huffed.

 “I think he was referring to the Sparks.” Perceptor said.

 “There are still some on the outside,” Trailbreaker grunted. Producing a barrier this large was taxing on his energy reserves. Generating force fields didn’t usually drain his stamina like this, but large ones were like running around the Orbital Torus States on foot without any assistance. “I’m sorry, but if I make this field any bigger it won’t deflect the radiation.”

 “Huh,” Chromedome pointed at the sky platform. “From where I’m standing, that sky platform doesn’t look so innocuous…”

 Indeed the floating aircraft wasn’t stationary or unassuming anymore. Obviously seeing that the Autobots had waylaid their plan, the bottom half of the platform split open to reveal a collection of beam cannons that slid out and pointed at the force field. More appeared on top of the platform as well. They all opened fire on the force field with astounding force, bombarding the dome with powerful plasma blasts that rattled the ground. The firepower the thing had was enough to level two city blocks.

 “They know we’re on to them!” Skids said.

 “And now they’re moving on to plan B: blow everything up.” Chromedome said.

 Orion turned to Glitch. “Can you disable the platform?”

 “It’s too far away!”

 “Windcharger?”

 “Don’t know about disabling it, but I can break bits off.” He replied. 

 Skyhawk stepped forward. “I’m going up to take it out!”

 She transformed into a sleek cybertronian jump jet and flew into the air, avoiding the plasma blasts that were lighting up the airspace. She avoided the beams as the turrets targeted her and tried to shoot her down, firing her own weapons at the armored layer of the platform. She initially focused on the weapons first, but she was forced to evade more after half of the platform’s weapon systems tried to bring her down. Seeing that she wouldn’t be able to hold the fort for long, Roller decided this was the perfect chance to save those few Sparks left unprotected outside.

 “Harvest time!” He sang as he snatched a little container from Skids.

 “What’s that? An incubator?” Chromedome asked.

 “Teleporter. Sends the Sparks to a safehouse where they can be nurtured.” Roller answered. Orion tried to take the container from Roller, but he held it away.

 “Give it here.” Orion demanded. Roller easily pushed him back and shook his head.

 “Nuh-uh.”

 “It’s not safe out there. I’ll deal with the Sparks.” He insisted.

 “The hell you will.”

 “Roller-“ Orion trailed off when he saw Roller give him a resigned smile.

 “Sorry big guy-I need this.” Roller said and ran out of the barrier. He was immediately assaulted by plasma bursts raining down on him, flames licking at his armor and the loud explosions nearly blasting out his audio receptors.

 Roller made it to the cluster of Sparks and immediately began plucking them out of the ground with a pair of pincers. Handling a Spark with your bare hands was a big no-no and could infect you with radiation if you’re unlucky. He had no time to traditionally harvest the birth metal-sentio metallic-with the Sparks, that would have to done in post. But he still had time to gather and transport the remaining number of Sparks around him.

 But time was running out. Skyhawk’s assault on the sky platform wasn’t doing as much damage as she hoped, and she took a few glancing hits from the plasma cannons. While the top cannons were focused on her, the bottom cannons were still firing at the barrier, and two cannons diverted their attention to Roller. Large energy beams hit the ground around him, but Roller used his body to protect the last two Sparks from the assault. He picked them up and transformed to evade the explosions, but a stray beam hit his rear wheels and sent him flying onto his side.

 “That’s it!” Orion snarled. “This ends now! Trailbreaker, when I give the word, I want you to put your fore field around me.”

 “Just you?”

 “Just me,” He confirmed. “The tighter the better. Windcharger, how’s your throwing arm?”

 “My what? What do you…?” Windcharger smirked as he understood the order. “Oh, I get it.”

 Orion waited for the minute long lull in the plasma bombardment then yelled for Trailbreaker to do his thing. The force field vanished and a smaller one appeared around his body, forming a blue aura around him. Orion’s body was now encased in a force field so tight against his body that it was only a hair’s breath away from his metal skin.

 “Want me to aim for anything in particular?” Windcharger asked, getting ready to magnetically hold onto Pax.

 “Just make sure I connect.”

 “Alrighty then,” Windcharger cocked his arm back and then waved his arm. “Off you go!”

 Orion was propelled into the air like a bullet, shooting towards the sky platform. The plasma beams bounced off him as he hit the bottom of the platform and kept going, smashing through its internal components and power lines. The impact alone should’ve killed him, and punching through the machine itself would’ve torn him apart before he was even halfway done. All he had for protection was a thin layer of energy. He emerged through the top, where Skyhawk was flying by and grabbed hold of her wing as she zoomed past the platform. The sky platform wavered in the air for a minute before it blew up in a spectacular explosion that could be seen for miles. The Bots on the ground couldn’t tear their eyes away from the display.

 “That is officially the coolest thing I have ever seen.” Chromedome whispered. No one argued with him on that.

XXXXXX

 “How are you feeling Roller?” Orion sat beside his friend, who was resting in the med bay after his near death heroics. Pax himself was alright save for a bit of jelly legs from being turned into a living bullet, but Roller’s body was marked with misshapen armor warped by the intense heat of the plasma beams and his sensors were still recalibrating after the explosions nearly blew out his audio arrays.

 “I feel like slag.” Roller groaned. “My body hurts and I look like a combiner doused me with a giant blowtorch.”

 “Hang in there. Zeta’s sending us a transport in a couple of hours.”

 “And the Sparks?”

 “Safe, even the ones that were nearly destroyed, all thanks to a certain someone.” Orion smiled. “For a bot known only for being big and strong, you’ve certainly gone above and beyond for those innocent lives.”

 After destroying the sky platform, the rebels got to work on harvesting the Sparks. It took them almost an hour, but when the last Spark was harvested, their work in the Allyon region was finally done.

 “Where were the Sparks sent?”

 “To a secret medical facility in Nyon. There they will be nurtured and take shape. Then their lives are their own.” Orion answered. “Our work is done here.”

 “Thank the Guiding Hand.” Roller sighed in relief. He never wanted to come back here again for the rest of his days.

 Orion wished he could share his comrade’s victory, but found that he couldn’t. He still felt tense, like something was going to happen soon. He was never a superstitious mech who believed in omens, but the storm clouds approaching from over the horizon made him feel uneasy. What else was this planet going to throw at him in the future?

XXXXXX

 The roads between Tarn and Styx were always treacherous and unpredictable, even before the Clampdown. Aside from roaming bands of outlaws, the weather would become hazardous with torrential rains and thunder storms a common occurrence. Couple this with the uneven, jagged terrain and the borders were absolute hell to be maintained by state militias. This made them the perfect passage ways for bots seeking to avoid scrutiny by the authorities.

 Elmeth had never traveled these pathways often, and when she did, it was in the company of another. But she didn’t pay her environment any mind as she traversed the border between Styx and Tarn in her beast mode; a silver griffon nearly twice the size of her robot mode. Her form was large and graceful, aerodynamic and built for speed and flight, but the lack of a properly working wing killed that thought at once. From a distance, she looked like a mythical cybertronian beast, and that’s how she wanted. It would divert attention away from herself if people thought she was just a majestic creature.

 She had just got done meeting with someone in Styx, a person of interest she took on to help “protect” Megatron in the future. Megatron had no idea she was even doing this, and definitely wouldn’t want her making deals behind his back to keep his safety, but the world was an even more dangerous place these days. The senate bended and twisted their laws at their leisure, and as the leader of a prominent revolution, Megatron had a target painted on his back. If the Decepticons were to achieve their victory, Megatron’s life had to be preserved no matter the cost. Elmeth wasn’t worried, her contact was someone who could be trusted to stand with them as allies and held Megatron’s ideals in high regard.

 Elmeth didn’t like doing things behind Megatron’s back, but it was a necessary evil. She felt a foreboding sense of dread that had been plaguing her for a few days now. She thought it was a sign that something bad was going to happen to Megatron, but now she knew that he wasn’t the target…she was. And she had a feeling who was coming after her.

 “Help…me…”

 Elmeth paused as a faint, weak cry called out over the rushing winds. Just a few feet away from her was an injured mech, a Minicon. His legs were crushed and his upper body sported laser burns from energy fire. Elmeth cautiously walked towards him and transformed, walking over to him in long strides.

 “P-please, is s-someone there?” The Minicon whined.

 “It’s all right, I’m here now.” Elmeth said softly.  

 Unseen to her was a red femme cloaked from visual and audio sensors. She had a moderately armored form and a round head with a single eye at the center of her head. Round metal plates that looked like land mines hovered around her shoulders, seven in total, and were emitting a low pitched sound that was inaudible to regular audio sensors. But this was not enough to completely fool Elmeth.

 “What’s your na-“ Elmeth cut herself off when she heard the faint sound of shifting dirt near her. Like someone sliding their foot along the ground. Her face morphed into an uncharacteristic demonic scowl and she leapt back, flaring her wing out in a show of aggression.

 The hologram of the Minicon vanished and the femme, Mercurius, revealed herself, spinning her plates around her body as they gave that continued hum. Another bot, a bright blue mech who looked almost identical to Mercurius, appeared over a cliff, landing hard on the ground. Vayeate was his name. He ran at Elmeth from behind and fired his plasma cannon at her back. She jumped to the side, but Mercurius charged at her, raising a shield that spawned a long beam saber from its center. Elmeth dodged the saber and launched a kick at her head, only for her leg to be blocked by an invisible force. Elmeth only had seconds to get over her shock before Vayeate grabbed her wing and slammed her to the ground. She barely avoided getting a hole shot into her as she rolled away and transformed to her beast mode. Elmeth let out an animalistic cry before firing a large stream of white flames from her mouth at the twins.

 Her flames were hot enough to melt the metal of the ground they fought on, but before they could reach them, they were split apart, deflected by something else protecting the twins. It was Mercurius’s barrier, generated by the seven plates positioned in front of her. Elmeth didn’t let up on her inferno, but she didn’t need to, as Vayeate was already getting into position to fire his cannon. He fired a strong beam straight through the shield and fire stream before hitting Elmeth in the shoulder. It sent her falling back and rolling to a stop, reverting back to robot mode.

 Mercurius and Vayeate ran at Elmeth, but quickly stopped when they saw her body twitch. Then they were knocked back by an invisible pulsewave that emanated from her.

 Elmeth’s head shot up and her red eyes were now glowing a luminous white. Ivory flames rose off her form as she got to her feet and she propelled jets of flame from her feet to fly into the air. The twins gave each other worried looks as the femme started raining down jets of flame down on her surroundings. She glared down at them and waved her hand, firing a bolt of lightning from her fingertips, forcing them to scatter. It was like standing at the heart of a thunderstorm, with bolts tearing apart the ground as the twins tried to dodge them without rest.

 Mercurius fired lasers from her arm guns and Vayeate fired his cannon, but both of their attacks were blocked by a ring of force surrounding Elmeth’s body. She clenched her hand and a nearby rock formation was broken apart, fragments of rock and metal rising into the air before raining down on the twins in a hail of sharp filaments that pierced their armor like sharp needles.

 Elmeth saw a flash of light farther up and looked up to see the one person she was expecting today-Ember. Far from surprised at the appearance of her former colleague, Elmeth summoned a ring of fire around her and condensed it into a fireball that she shot at Ember. Ember jumped over the fireball and let it explode behind her, smoothly landing on the ground and waving her hand. The burning cinders in the air spun around and fit together to form a large spear of glass that hit Elmeth in the chest, knocking her to the ground.

 Hissing, Elmeth saw her three attackers charging her at once. Ember transformed to her beast mode, a vermillion bird with crimson wings, and swooped in on Elmeth. Elmeth also transformed and the two femmes clashed in a storm of intense flames, biting and clawing at each other. Flames licked at Ember’s wings as she left burning gashes in Elmeth’s body, her body temperature hot enough to melt metal. Elmeth pushed her off and snapped at her wing, her beak punching through the steel folds and slamming her to the ground.

 She transformed in a smooth motion and ducked under Mercurius’s saber, spin-kicking her in the face with her talons. She flipped over her and knocked Vayeate’s cannon to the side before grabbing his head and smashing it into a cliffside. He recovered quickly and pointed his cannon at her chest and pulled the trigger. In a momentary bid of insanity, Elmeth rushed forward and grabbed the barrel and crushed it. She kicked him in the chest and sent him flying into his sister.

 That’s when she realized that she lost sight of Ember. She spun around and saw Ember form a bow from her two swords and fire three arrows. Elmeth dodged them, but they detonated like frag grenades and blasted her off her feet. Mercurius and Vayeate jumped away to regroup with Ember as the explosion blew a hole in the ground.

 “Did you get her?” Vayeate asked. “Please tell me you got her?”

 “I don’t know, Vayeate,” Ember sneered. “Why don’t you two go and confirm it?”

 The siblings complied, if only to avoid pissing her off. They readied their weapons and approached the smoking crater. When they dared to lean over the hole, Elmeth jumped out in her beast mode. She slammed her head into Vayeate’s face and blasted him back with a fire blast that blew him into the ground. She switched forms and ducked under Mercurius’s saber, blocking her arm and kicking her in the face. Ember rushed at her with her swords, but Elmeth avoided getting stabbed by side-stepping her and punching her into the ground. She then spun around and slammed her heel into Mercurius’s face, sending her crashing into a metal pillar head first.

 Vayeate groaned as she tried to recover from the severe head blow, then she looked up and saw Elmeth limping towards her. The femme’s talons were longer and sharpened, eyes flashing angrily. Elmeth grabbed Vayeate by the neck and lifted her up, ready to physically tear out her Spark with her own hands. She wasn’t going down without taking one of them with her.

 Unfortunately she never got the chance. An arrow fired by Ember pierced her back under her stump of a left wing and exploded, taking out a good portion of her spinal column and most of her left side. She systems were already going into shock as she fell to the ground, sparks and energon shooting from her damaged body. Her body crashed to the hard ground, optics flickering as she was hovering on the edge of shutdown. She saw Ember limp over to her, though her vision was blurry at this point.

 “You never should’ve abandoned the Order. You spat on my hospitality and on the good name of Jubileus.” Ember hissed, displaying a rare show of anger. “Now you will pay for your transgressions against your goddess.”

 Elmeth could say nothing as everything started shutting down on her, and all she could do was glare up at Ember as she fell into stasis, her world going dark.

XXXXXX

 “Did you hear? Orion Pax was sighted in the Allyon region yesterday.”

 “Yeah, something about causing more problems for the senate outpost stationed there. A relay station was supposedly taken out in the skirmish.”

 “You think it was Pax?”

 “Definitely, he’s smart enough to give them the run around. It’s a damn shame Sentinel’s gunning for his head. Heard he was one of Rodion’s best. A friend of mine said he was a pretty swell guy to know.”

 “I don’t blame him for going rogue. I’d lose it to if I had to deal with this slag.”

 “Wasn’t Pax and Elita-1 a thing? What happened?”

 “No idea, but they were close. I wonder what she thinks of him running around like a Decepticon.”

 ‘She’d tell you both to stop talking about a femme when she’s only a few feet away from you.’ Elita-1 thought scowling.

 With an aggravated sigh she ignored the conversation going on and focused on her work. The sub-levels of the archives were deathly quiet, and a whispered conversation could sound like a shouting match. These morons didn’t get the memo, and she had enough of listening in on their gossip. She shelved the last two datatracks and walked down the isle towards the elevator. She had a lot of work to get done and little time to do it.

 She was stressed out enough without worrying ceaselessly about Orion Pax. She didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but apparently it was enough to make Sentinel put him on the most wanted list. She couldn’t get in contact with him, and she knew that he wouldn’t call her to keep them both safe. Such things were a danger to their continued health, since the senate has the data castes monitoring any public and private transmissions on the DataNet. The Hall of Records was almost dragged into their information manipulation and recollection schemes, but Alpha Trion made it very clear to the government that he wouldn’t let his life’s work become a tool to consolidate the senate’s hold on everything. During her days off, she even heard that Sentinel himself came to the Hall to “convince” Trion to work for him on this, but somehow the Archivist chased him off with nothing but a tense voice and razor sharp remarks. Old he may be, but Alpha Trion was not someone who was intimidated easily.

 ‘How did things get so out of control?’ Elita-1 lamented. She could barely walk down the street without being scrutinized by some nu with a badge, and the tightening constrictions on the people’s privacy was making everyone go insane. ‘Orion, are you having a better time than me outside the law? No, probably not. Nothing ever goes easy for him.’

 As she made her way to the elevator, the door slid open and a small green femme ran out of the lift, nearly running Elita-1 over. She recognized her as Glyph from the archaeological department on the second sub-level.

 “Whoa!” Elita-1 held Glyph steady so that she wouldn’t fall over. “Glyph, what’s wrong?”

 “Elita, there’s a squad of Enforcers outside the building!” Glyph cried. “Alpha Trion is talking to their leader right now. He says they want to speak to you!”

 Elita-1’s eyes widened but she struggled to remain calm for the sake of her friend. There was only two reasons the Enforcers, the Functionist’s private army, could be asking for her. Either they wanted to question her about Orion or they somehow knew about her outlier powers. Either way, this was not a situation that was going to end well for her. Patting Glyph on the arms, she assured the shorter femme that everything was okay before taking the elevator to the entrance.

 When she made it to ground level, she saw Alpha Trion standing before a taller, bulkier mech in olive green armor, the commander she presumed. There was an armored convoy parked outside the doors, with two more soldiers standing guard. Elita-1 took a calming breath and walked forward with her head held high.

 “Ah! Here she is, as I’ve told you commander.” Alpha Trion said, not taking his yellow eyes off the Enforcer. “Now will you explain why you want to see her?”

 “Elita-1 of Rodion,” The commander said sternly. “My superiors would like to meet with you at our headquarters in Kalis.”

 “Why?” She asked.

 “I am not at liberty to say, only that you comply willingly.”

 There was no way she was getting out of this without starting a fight and getting something blown off. She heard the rumors of people of interest disappearing for days on end without a word. She supposed this might be something official, that they wanted to interrogate her on something, but as far as she was concerned, anyone with a badge was her enemy until proven innocent. She didn’t like the look he was giving her and made sure to show that she wasn’t going to take his “request” lying down. But to her surprise, Alpha Trion placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her an earnest look.

 “Go with them, Elita.” He said calmly. “It’ll be alright.”

 Elita-1 looked at him confused, but she could see the knowing look in his eyes. Seeing that he wasn’t so worried, she inhaled sharply and glared at the Enforcer.

 “Fine, let’s go.”

 The commander and his lieutenant escorted her out of the building and into the six-wheeled convoy that looked like an eye sore against the regal majesty of the Hall of Records. She wondered why a bunch of mechs that transform into tanks and trucks would need to ride in a convoy, but figured that it was mostly for convenience if nothing else. They stashed her in the back with two other Enforcers and signaled the driver to move out.

XXXXXX

 “ _Do you have a visual on the convoy?”_

“Yeah, it just left the hall now and is heading towards the downtown area.”

 “ _We can’t let them reach the highway out of the city or we’ll never get a clear shot of them. Follow them and extract the target when your time comes.”_

“I know what to do, genius. You just be sure to get us out of here after slag goes down.”

XXXXXX

 Elita-1 tried not to look at any of the Enforcers during the uncomfortable ride. They were all a head taller than her and were still fingering their rifles, just in case she tried something funny. She was afraid, but was not willing to give them the satisfaction. She had already asked why they were taking her, but once again they didn’t even have the courtesy to answer her.

 ‘Well this is it. The end of my story.’ She  thought sadly. ‘Orion, sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you. I hope that you succeed wherever you are. At least you’ll be doing something worthwhile, unlike me.’

 But just as she finished her mental lamentation, the convoy suddenly jerked to a stop, nearly causing everyone to fall off their seats. The commander cursed and banged the front of the bulkhead.

 “What’s going on? We’re not at the LZ yet!”

 The driver didn’t answer, and it made the commander angrier. He was about to yell at the driver again when two small hands phased through the seat under Elita-1 and grabbed her, pulling her through the armored hull. The Enforcers tried to grab her but their hands passed through her legs. In return, a small object was dropped into the seat, which the soldiers recognized immediately.

 “GRENADE!”

 Outside, Shadowkat pulled Elita-1 off the street and covered her body with her own just as the convoy blew apart, sending pieces of metal everywhere. They phased through the two femmes’ bodies, but a few unlucky bots were skewered through the head or chest because they weren’t quick enough to get away. Elita-1 pushed Shadowkat away and fell onto her behind

 “Who the hell are you?!” She cried out.

 “Your savior, and you’re welcome.” Shadowkat said dryly.

_“Nice going Kat, that explosion just alerted every law enforcement squad in the area.”_

“Just shut up and get me an escape route.” She growled.

 There were a few minutes of silence before her partner spoke again. “ _You need to head deeper into the inner city. Head through the buildings to shake off the sky spies.”_

“Roger that.” Shadowkat said and grabbed Elita-1’s hand. “Come on.”

 “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me who you are and what’s going on!” Elita-1 growled.

 “Name’s Shadowkat and I’m trying to get you out of here into safe hands before those functionist bastards rip you open or enslave you. Now can we go or do you want my number as well?”

 Elita-1 pursed her lips and nodded at Shadowkat. They transformed to their alt modes and left the smoldering wreck of the convoy behind them just as a squad of police officers drove onto the scene. There were shouts for them to halt before laser bolts started flying over their heads. Shadowkat led Elita-1 into an alley and returned to robot mode before hopping onto a fire escape. She helped her onto the catwalk and they quickly climbed up to the roof.

 “Keep moving!” Shadowkat yelled. Elita-1 looked back and saw a cloud of medium sized drones that looked like mechanical wasps flying through the air in a swarm.

 “Drones!” She exclaimed.

 “ _Keep running until you get to the edge of the roof and jump.”_

_“_ But we’re five stories up!”

 “ _Trust me!”_

Shadowkat growled and pulled Elita-1 closer to her as the swarm of drones encroached upon their position, firing bolts of plasma energy at the femmes. They reached the edge of the roof and jumped off, with Shadowkat spinning around to throw a grenade at the drones. They descended into the river that was next to the building just as the grenade exploded and took out half of the swarm. Shadowkat and Elita-1 remained underwater to keep out of sight, and the former’s unseen partner directed where they should go.

 “ _There’s a sewer access point near you. Swim towards it.”_

They did that, keeping a fair distance from the boats swimming above their heads. They reached the sewer duct and swam into the small space before surfacing. Shadowkat kept an eye out for any trackers while Elita-1 regained her bearings.

 “What the hell is all this?” She lamented. “Just a few minutes ago I was working in the archives, and now I’m a wanted fugitive!”

 “Deal with it. We’re all having our lives uprooted by the senate and the functionists.” Shadowkat said. She saw how distressed Elita-1 was and decided that the hard ass approach wasn’t going to cut it for this lady. “Look, I know everything’s happening too fast and it’s scary, trust me, I’ve been in that position before. But those Enforcers were not going to let you go. The Functionists, they want to enslave people like you and me.”

 “Enslave?”

 “Yes, a superpowered army at their beck and call, all because we’re different, like the Council. I’ll explain in greater detail when we get to safety, but you have to trust me.”

 Elita-1 was still wary, but she knew that at this point, she had no other choice other than get shot down or arrested. With a sigh, she nodded to work with Shadowkat, if only to guarantee her own safety. Shadowkat smiled and handed her a blaster pistol.

 “Let’s get topside. Stay close to me and keep your head down.” She ordered. “There’s going to be a lot of fire coming our way.”

 Elita-1 nodded and climbed the ladder to remove the man-hole covering the vent. She saw a gunship fly overhead as she and Shadowkat climbed onto a deserted street. Shadowkat took point and ran over to the corner of the alley they were in. They saw Elite Guardsmen and Enforcers ordering civilians to go indoors, or were arresting anyone who looked suspicious enough to garner their attention.

“They’ll lock down the entire city to get us.” Elita-1 whispered.

 “Then we gotta move before our window of escape shrinks.” Shadowkat looked out at the buildings in the distance and pointed at a high rise that was in construction. “We’re near our extraction point. If we can just reach that building, we’ll be in the clear.”

 “How do we get there? The streets are crawling with soldiers.”

 “We don’t need to fight when we don’t have to. Here,” She handed Elita-1 a grapple attachment. “Take this. You’ll need it.”

 Elita-1 attached the grapple to her right arm and followed Shadowkat through the streets, passing through the crowds and into alleyways. They were already half way before a trio of sky spies caught sight of Elita-1’s rose colored armor and opened fire on them.

 “Slag! Transform and drive as fast as you cam!”

 Shadowkat switched to beast mode and went into a mad sprint, running almost as fast as Elita-1’s alt mode. They zipped past patrols and pedestrians, curving tightly around corners all while trying to use overhanging catwalks and neon signs to block the laser bolts raining down on them. It was pure chaos, and Elita-1 didn’t know what was going on half the time. All she knew was that she had to follow Shadowkat as closely as possible and avoid being turned into a pin cushion. They reached the half finished high rise and returned to their robot modes.

 Shadowkat briefly explained to Elita-1 how to use the grapple line before grappling onto a scaffolding on the fifth floor. Elita-1 followed after her, but as they reach the seventeenth floor, a dropship hovered near the edge of the floor to deploy a squad of green armored Enforcers carrying plasma rifles and vibro-blades.

 “Take cover!” Shadowkat pulled Elita-1 behind a metal crate as the Enforcers opened fire with a wall of energy blasts that tore into their surroundings. Shadowkat phased through the crate and rushed at the soldiers, shooting one mech in the face before swiping her hand through another’s chest, scrambling his internals along the way.

 Elita-1 bit her lip and shot her pistol at the two soldiers who were distracted by her partner. Her pistol didn’t do much damage against their tough armor plating, but she did a good job drawing their attention. Shadowkat flipped through the air to slam her heel into the cranium of one poor bot.

 “Ah!” Elita-1 yelped as a bot zipped past her head and turned to see two more bots approaching her from the left, grim faces not even fazed by the unexpected fight they were having. When another plasma bolt hit the spot next to her shoulder, sending sparks in her face, she let out a growl and stood up. “That’s it!”

 She held out her arms and focused on the objects around her, the large crates and tools, the metal pipes and plating on the incomplete walls, even the weapons the Enforcers were wielding, and clenched her hands. Everything was grasped by an invisible force and pulled from their positions, flying around the air like a tornado of psychokinetic energy. The Enforcers, even Shadowkat, were taken by surprise at the sudden display of outlier powers and had little time to process it all as Elita-1 unleashed her pent up rage against the people who ruined her life.

 “DIE!!!”

 The metal pipes and razor sharp plates were stabbed into the heads and chests of the military bots, some tried to shoot the flying debris down, only to have their guns crushed into scrap along with her hands and legs. Elita-1 swiped her hand and the three bots fighting Shadowkat were swept off their feet, throw out of the building and sent falling to their deaths. The last two mechs tried shooting her directly, but their bolts bounced off the invisible TK shield that surrounded her body. Elita-1 clapped her hands together and the Enforcers were slammed together, their bodies crunching and melding together, compacting into a ball of misshapen parts and leaking fluids. She didn’t let up on the torturous assault until she was sure they were dead, brain modules and Sparks casings smashing into scrap.

 She released her hold on the macabre ball of mesh and let it fall to the floor with a loud clang. Shadowkat looked at it in silence, then at the panting Elita-1 in shock before shaking her head and walking over to the femme. Placing her arms around the femme’s shoulders, she urged Elita-1 to follow her to the roof, where their escape vehicle would be waiting.

 “Just a few more feet, girl. You can do it.” Shadowkat said.

 They grappled their way to the roof, where they saw a dropship lowering itself in front of them. Elita-1 gripped her pistol, but Shadowkat stopped her before she could fire.

 “Don’t worry, that’s our ride.”

 The dropship landed on the roof and the landing hatch fell open to reveal the one person that had been on Elita-1’s mind for the past few weeks. Suddenly she was overcome with the sudden urge to pull the trigger, but Shadowkat had long since snatched the gun from her hand.

 “Hello Elita,” Orion Pax said softly. “It’s… been a while, hasn’t it?”

 Elita-1 walked up to Pax and stared up into his eyes for a tense few minutes. Then she punched him in the jaw with a TK enhanced punch.

XXXXXX

 “I thought I told you to never meet me in person Ember.” Sentinel Prime growled through clenched teeth. “Do you know the consequences if we’re seen together?”

 Both the Prime and Ember were standing in a closed off room guarded by Sentinel’s most loyal Elite Guard mechs. The room itself was inside a secret munitions facility where weapons of…questionable legality were produced and stored. Ember had arrived unannounced when Sentinel was doing an inspection of the place, and he practically dragged her into the lounge to have a more private conversation.

 Ember smirked and placed a hand over her chest in mock hurt. “Aw, Sentinel you wound me. Here I come bringing gifts and you spurn my affection. You certainly live up to your reputation.”

 Sentinel struggled not to strangle her. “What do you want?”

 It was an odd arrangement they had; one born of mutual interest that evolved into a business deal that Sentinel was still regretting till this day. As someone who advocated the persecution of beast formers and outliers, Sentinel Prime couldn’t be seen hanging out with a femme who was both, much less someone of ill repute like Ember. In other situations, Sentinel would’ve tried to have her killed, but her reach was far and wide, and her influence had already affected Cybertron a great deal. Even now, in her battered, damaged state, she still gave off a feeling of power that few bots could portray in the face of weakness. But he was puzzled as to who was strong enough to put her in this state.

 “I’ve run into a rogue member of my Order; a wild card that fell of the top of the deck per say,” Ember’s eyes glowed brightly as she told him this. “She was powerful, and had potential, but was misguided. She spurned ours gods and began fraternizing with the Decepticon leader.”

 “Megatron?” Sentinel Prime bristled at the name. That bastard had caused him just as many problems for his regime as that piece of slag Orion Pax!  “She’s related to that rebellious hellspawn?”

 “Very,” Ember smirked. Then she got down to business. “You see, I have a plan that could benefit you in the long run. An attack on Tarn using a secret weapon we’ve been developing to wipe out those rats that crawl around in Tarn’s underground.”

 “An attack? Are you mad? The last thing we need is to start a war during the Clampdown!” Sentinel shouted.

 “No one will know it was you in the first place, so long as you follow my directions. Not only is this a chance to eliminate the seat of the Decepticon revolution, but it’s also a good opportunity to steal power from the Functionists.”

 That caught Sentinel’s attention. The Decepticons were becoming an even bigger problem since that botched Matrix bombing operation, and the Functionists were a thorn in his side since he took the position of Prime. Steelheart was doing everything in her power to consolidate her place in society, and he knew that she was planning to wipe out the senate at some point when they least expect it. But still, he couldn’t take Ember’s words at face value. She was as sly as a turbofox, and resilient like one as well.

 “What is this weapon exactly?” He asked. “What weapon could you and your “friends” could possibly have that could tear the Decepticons apart all at once?”

 “A beast that’s been lying dormant in Cybertron’s womb since ancient times.”

 Ember had Sentinel follow her to the airship hangar where her personal transport ship was docked for refueling. Mercurius and Vayeate were pushing a slab down the landing hatch, the cargo they were busy guarding for their mistress. Sentinel looked at the slab and saw a severely damaged femme strapped to it, silver with nearly all of her left side blasted apart and numbers lacerations along her arm and legs. Her red eyes were glaring heatedly at him and Ember.

 “May I introduce Elmeth,” Ember smiled. “Our former priestess and the key to our victory.”

XXXXXX

 The journey from Iacon had to be the most tense flight Elita-1 had ever taken. She sat next to Shadowkat, glaring at Orion (who had the audacity to look sheepish) sitting across from her. Nothing was said, she displayed her reaction accurately with that punch she gave him. Her fist was still aching but his jaw was numb so it was all good. Orion looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words, and decided to wait until they had landed at the base.  What do you say to someone you’ve haven’t had contact with for nearly a year?

 As for Shadowkat, she was waiting for someone to say the wrong thing and start a fight. That punch had her cackling for nearly 20 minutes earlier.

 Thankfully for both parties they reached their destination quick enough. Though Elita-1 couldn’t see it, the secret base that belonged to Zeta’s paramilitary group was located inside the second largest mountain of the Manganese Mountain range. It served as their main base of operations, but there were multiple secret militia bases located along Cybertron’s western hemisphere. The dropship lowered itself to the ground, where two large doors disguised as the terrain slid open to reveal the underground hangar. It settled into the docking bay, where its passengers disembarked to see Zeta standing there with a grim look on her face.

 “Elita-1 of Rodion?” Zeta held out her hand. “I’m Zeta of Sistex. Nice to see you’re safe and sound.”

 “That’s a matter of perspective.” Elita-1 said dryly, ignoring Zeta’s hand. She wasn’t normally so rude, but she was fed up with all this secrecy and tip toeing around her. She wanted answers, right here and right now. “Now will someone tell me what the hell is going on around here?”

 Zeta sighed and motioned for Elita-1 and Orion to follow her. “Come to my office. We can talk in private.”

 A few minutes later, Elita-1 found herself sitting at Zeta’s desk in a comfortable little office that reminded her of Alpha Trion’s little abode back at the Hall of Records. Once she and Orion were seated, Zeta began to explain what she got herself dragged into.

 Zeta’s group was called the Sons and Daughters of Cybertron, a paramilitary organization formed by her, Senator Halogen and Senator Shockwave a few years ago. The main purpose of this organization was to deface the senate’s façade and expose their crimes, bringing them to justice along with the god-fearing Functionists. They were formed out of a fear of just how far both the senate and Functionists would go to keep a foothold in Cybertron’s affairs, and the existence of the Institute was reason enough to stand and fight in the shadows. So far, they had only been doing information gathering and covert ops that involved sabotaging senate operations that took place behind the scenes, but it was clear they weren’t doing enough following Nominus’s assassination at the hands of Sentinel, the attempt to frame the Decepticons with a staged terrorist bombing and the recent experiments on the hot spot in the Allyon region. Things were escalating far too quickly for them, and they needed to get a handle on the situation before something sparked a possible civil conflict.

 Elita-1 tried to process all this. It was all so bizarre, yet she could hardly call herself surprised. Everyone knew that one of two things were going to happen; either a war within the government or a Decepticon revolution. The Clampdown only made those fears seem more possible. But she was more worried about Orion’s hand in all this: leading a strike team called the Autobots made up of outlaws and outliers, trying to promote the very ideals he professed he supported before the senate on that fateful day. She glanced back at him and saw the faint scratches and dents marring his body, the hardened look in his eyes. Somewhere down the line, he had stopped looking like a cop and more like a soldier.

 “I know this is too much to handle for you, but we had no choice other than to act.” Zeta said to her. “Things are going to explode on Cybertron, and someone has to do something to make sure that those depots don’t burn our planet to a cinder. Orion was just one of many bots dragged into this mess.”

 “And what about me?” Elita-1 asked. “What do I have anything to do with this?”

 “Those Enforcers that arrested you were going to take you to the Functionist Council. According to the reports we intercepted, they suspected you to be a possible outlier. How they know this, we don’t know, but according to Shadowkat, who had fought them before, the Council is composed of outliers and they were probably seeking to recruit to join their ranks.”

 “Join them?” She gaped. Zeta nodded grimly.

 “Yes, and they don’t take no for an answer. These people have a huge god complex, and Primus knows what they were going to do to make you “see” their way. I sent Shadowkat to waylay them before they left the city and retrieve you.”

 Elita-1 stared blankly down at the desk, her processor still trying to figure all this out. It was scary at how one massive information dump could uproot everything she believed in, destroy her peaceful life in just a few short minutes. Zeta glanced behind her and caught Orion’s look. She sighed and got up, patting her on the shoulder before leaving the office to give the two some privacy.

 Orion rubbed the back of his head as the door slid shut behind him. Elita-1 sat in her chair with her head in her hands. She didn’t make a sound and that worried him a bit. Mustering up some courage, he took a step forward, but stopped when he heard hr mutter something.

 “I’m sorry?”

 “I told you so.” She said dully. “I told you, you were in over your head!”

 Orion stepped back when she shot up from her seat, her eyes bright and angry. “What so this is my fault? Elita, we just saved your life!”

 “All this slag started when you got caught up in Megatron’s garbage! You acting up at the senate, running around in the shadows like some supercop trying to save the system, acting out because you have a hero complex!”

 “I’m trying to salvage our home! Our people, our society. Look around you!” Orion said. “Everything we’ve known was a lie, and it’s falling apart at the seams. I didn’t start this and neither did Megatron, it was already set in motion before I even learned about him.”

 “But you go caught up in it all the same. You think that leaping into the line of fire will stop them from shooting you, but it’ll only make them pull the trigger faster.” Elita-1 replied, sneering at him. “You think that just one person can change the world, clean it up from bottom to top, but this is just too big for you, Orion. This isn’t some lone case you can solve with one or two bots. We’re facing a war here, but you and that bum in Tarn seem to think that people will change if you root out the weeds. This is bigger than you.”

 “Don’t you think I know that!” Orion snarled, stepping closer to her. “Why the hell do you think I’m doing this? I want to protect my home and the people I care about, and that includes you, believe it or not.”

 “Well you’ve don’t a wonderful job doing that. I feel so safe and protected!” she shook her head and gave him a look of pity. Somehow, it made him angrier than he already was. “Just admit it, Pax. You’re doing this because it’s the only thing you know how to do. You’ve spent your entire life saving people and bringing bad guys in that you are willing to jump into the middle of a political mess just to satiate that urge to be a hero. To get save that one precious life to rid yourself of the guilt of not saving those thousands of others you failed to save.”

 “At least I’m not willing to live a total lie like you are!” He spat.

 The slap she gave him hurt more than the punch she gave him earlier. No powers this time, just metal on metal, and it stung. He didn’t move his eyes away from hers and she didn’t lose her angry expression, but when she spoke, she sounded tired and withered.

 “If you keep doing this Orion, you’re going to be hurt. You’re going to be affected in a way that will haunt you forever and I don’t want you to go through that.” She caressed the spot where she hit him. “I’m afraid for you. I care about you too much to let you suffer like this.”

 The tensions drained from Orion’s shoulders and he relaxed a bit. Testing his luck he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “I know, but I’m well aware of the dangers. I can handle anything that comes my way. Trust me.”

 Orion Pax didn’t know it, but he would later be proven wrong. Horribly wrong.

XXXXXX

 “What do you mean you can’t find her?” megatron roared. Knockout winced at his fury and took a step back.

 “W-well, according to Lugnut, she was heading to Styx to meet up with someone before returning to Tarn. Some of the other Decepticons over there said she left for Tarn but she didn’t make the trip.”

 Megatron scowled trying not to let the worry show on his face. He needed to remain calm, to maintain that aura of strength in front of his followers. But it was hard when Elmeth was concerned. Something happened to her, he knew it in his Spark, and now she was in trouble with nothing he could for her. He never felt so helpless.

 “I already have Blackout and Obsidian searching from the skies and Barricade scouting the area for any sign of her.” Knockout informed him. He tried to put up a brave face and remain aloof, but even he was worried. “We’ll find her, Megatron.”

 Megatron sighed and nodded, looking out the window at Tarn’s jagged, uneven skyline. Knockout took his silence as his cue to leave and quietly walked out the door.

 The room felt colder now. Cold and lifeless. Megatron had no idea how much life Elmeth brought to such a dreary place until now, how much he really enjoyed her company. He glanced at the datapads on his desk-unfinished writings he barely touched in a week. Not that he needed to write anymore; Decepticons all over the Badlands preached his name, recited his words like they were gospel. In truth, he was starting to lose interest in writing, since his brief incarceration, he was more privy to showing the people what they could achieve rather than telling them. Keeping pushing the government until they broke under the pressure, because he knew that those pencil-pushing bureaucrats couldn’t tell their afts from their exhaust ports.

 It was no secret to anyone with common sense that the Clampdown was just their way of solidifying their power and taking out any group that opposed them. Megatron heard of the sudden decline in Triple M and Malware Brigade members. Outspoken bots being arrested, killed “mysteriously” or worse. The Decepticons were not exempt from this of course, rather they were specifically targeted, but their numbers were massive, and their drive for revolution was strong. Any attempt on the senate’s part to appease them was lost when Senator Proteus broke his so-called promise. Now it was only a matter of time before someone really started to fight back, that time when it stops being a war of words and evolves into a true revolution, a play for keeps.

 ‘But will I be the one leading it?’ Megatron thought. ‘Elmeth said to take the initiative, to make them see me as a threat they can’t just erase. But what then? Do I declare war on the entire government? The entire world?’

 There was a knock on the door and Knockout poked his head in. “Um, Megatron?”

 “What is it, Knockout? I want to be alone.” Megatron grunted.

 “I know that but, um…there’s some people who want to see you.” Knockout said nervously. He was then pushed aside as the door swung open by said visitors. Megatron turned around to yell at the intruders, but stopped shot when he saw their identities.

 “You’re…”

 Nightshade and Soundwave stood before him, proud and strong, but visibly worn out and slightly exhausted. Nightshade stepped forward and nodded respectfully towards him.

 “Hello, Megatron. I’m sure our arrival here was a surprise to you.”

 “That’s an understatement.” Megatron said frowning. “As honored as I am to have guests of reputed fame, I must ask what the hell are you doing in my home at this time of night?”

 “We’re here to seek your assistance in finding a mutual friend of ours,” Nightshade replied. “Elmeth.”

 Megatron scowled and stood up straighter. “Explain.”

 “Elmeth made contact with us a few months ago, before we raided the Cog. She gave us crucial information that helped the operation go smoother than it would’ve been if we went in blind. It was thanks to her that we were able to make as far into the Cog as possible before…” Nightshade bit her lip as she thought back to Shadowkat and her dead lover Blackbeetle. She lost contact with the femme after that day and had yet to hear a word from her.

 “Elmeth provided us assistance; she gave us a place to stay, energon to refuel and valuable information on the territory in the Badlands.” Soundwave said. “A few days ago, she gave us a cryptic message telling us to seek you out if anything happened to her.”

 Megatron was confused and rightfully so. What the hell was she doing behind his back? To think that she would go as far as to make back room deals to ensure his safety was hard to swallow. The last thing he wanted was for her to get into trouble trying to keep him alive. A stray thought at the back of his mind theorized that she might’ve been the one to plan those multiple bombings across Cybertron, but he abandoned that thought before it could take root. Elmeth was no killer, he knew that for sure.

 “Why would she tell you to search me out?” Megatron questioned.

 “To keep you safe. Elmeth once said that despite our methods, we both have the same goal, preserving Cybertron’s future and stopping its decay at the hands of the caste system and the people who govern it.” Nightshade answered. “The Decepticon movement is an embarrassment in the eyes of the senate. They have continually tried and failed to stop your movement, and the list of people who openly oppose their rule is growing each day. She figured that they’d try something to take you out in secret.”

 “I could care less about those pompous fools. My main concern is finding Elmeth!” He growled. “Do either of you have any idea on where she is? Anyway to track her somehow?”

 Nightshade and Soundwave shook their heads and Megatron did his best to keep the fear from showing on his face. He wasn’t going to stop finding her, but he no leads and certainly no physical way to locate her. He was blind and lost with no one to guide him.

 “I have connections, Megatron. I can help you look for her.” Nightshade promised. Megatron scowled.

 “No, I know who took her. It was either those Functionists bastards or Sentinel Prime!” He felt the rage building within him. “I don’t care if I have to charge the senate itself, I’ll get her back if it’s the last thing I do!”

 Nightshade unconsciously stepped back as she saw the visible rage on his face. Elmeth had told her that Megatron had a short temper and it was best to avoid angering him too much. But his recent mood swings were even more drastic. Elmeth’s disappearance had set Megatron on a downward spiral, she realized, and if he didn’t know where she was, then Megatron was going to do something very drastic.

 “Megatron,” Knockout stood in the doorway again. “I just got a call about some information about Elmeth’s disappearance.”

 In a heartbeat, Megatron was standing before the medic, eyes flashing. “Who is it from?”

 “An old friend of ours, Orion Pax.”

XXXXX

 “Are you sure this is a good idea, Pax?” Roller asked. “Tarn isn’t an exactly friendly place for bots like us.”

 “Then it’s a good thing we’re fugitives, Roller.” Orion replied stiffly. Roller frowned.

 “Seriously, Pax, we’re flying into the heart of Decepticon territory. What if-“

 “Roller!” Orion glared at the larger mech. “I’m not in the mood to argue right now. You asked to come along, so don’t get second thoughts when we’re already there!”

 Roller didn’t say anything else for the rest of the flight. Orion knew he was being unnecessarily harsh towards his friend, but after learning about Elmeth’s abduction, he was sporting a very short fuse. To know that the Functionists possibly have her made him irrational.

 He was sitting in the cargo bay of a cloaked dropship alongside his assembled team; Roller, Shadowkat, Windcharger, Chromedome and surprisingly Elita-1. He didn’t want bring her along, but she was adamant about not letting him out of her sight out of worry for him. He couldn’t bring himself to force her to stay behind after all the slag he gave her earlier, and he felt the need for some moral support on this mission would do his Spark some good.

 Chatter across the DataNet was hinting towards something big, and the Functionists were at the heart of it all. Elmeth’s kidnapping and the Functionists sudden bout of activity was not a coincidence, and Orion managed to convince Zeta to allow him to talk with Megatron. She was obviously reluctant to do so, wary of bringing someone as volatile as the gladiator champion into the fold, but if something was happening in Tarn, then it was necessary to gain some allies with the home front advantage.

 “So do you think Megatron will be happy to see you again?” Chromedome asked. “I heard that you two were close.”

 “Yes, but we haven’t talked since I had a run-in with the senate’s thugs. The Clampdown has made communications between states on private and public channels very difficult. I didn’t want to bring anymore heat on him than there already was.” Orion said. He knew that Tarn was gripped in civil unrest, with the city torn between the state militia and the civilian Decepticons. “But I’m confident that he will come through for us.”

 “That’s one of us.” Roller grumbled.

 They heard the pilot speak over the intercom. “Sir, we’re approaching the designated rendezvous point.”

 “Good, stay low and enter cruising mode.” Orion ordered. “Don’t startle them.”

 The pilot flew the ship over a mostly empty region of Tarn’s southeastern factory district, which had been abandoned after some of the factory workers launched a violent revolt that ended with some of the smelting pits overflowing and killing a lot of people in the process. As such, there was no power in the district and the only light came from the setting sun that cast long dark shadows over the area. The ship landed in front of a smelting factory that used to melt and process raw ore. The landing hatch fell open and the team exited the ship, weapons ready in case anything went wrong.

 “Keep your eyes open, people.” Roller said, fingering his photon cannon. “Primus knows how many junk heaps and empties call this place home.”

 “You’d be right Autobot if you were here a month ago before the riots tore this place apart.” A gruff voice called out.

 Orion saw the familiar silver form of Megatron walk out of the desolate factory, with Nightshade and Soundwave trailing behind him. He heard Shadowkat inhale sharply, but he couldn’t see her discomfort.

 “Megatron.” Orion greeted.

 “Orion Pax.” Megatron nodded. “It’s been a while.”

 “Yes, it certainly has.”

 They smiled and clasped hands, clad to see that they were both in one piece. Elita-1 couldn’t believe how friendly Orion was with Megatron, a mech who singlehandedly dragged the Badlands into chaos through words alone. He looked more terrifying in person.

 “Holy slag, is that the terrorist Dark Bird?” Chromedome whispered, pointing at Nightshade. He recognized her face from news reports and wanted posters on the Net. The headmaster certainly was not expecting to meet her in person. “When did she join the Cons?”

 “Just a few hours ago. Don’t get any ideas.” Nightshade huffed.

 “What are you doing here?” Megatron asked. “And how do you know about Elmeth?”

 “I’ll tell you all about it, but in private.” Orion told him. “I’d feel better chatting in someplace away from prying eyes.”

 Ordering the pilot to remain invisible, Roller and Chromedome stayed outside to keep an eye out, while Orion and Megatron went inside to talk. Elita-1 tagged along with Shadowkat as she stood by the empty smelting pool with Nightshade and Soundwave.

 The two mechs stood on a catwalk on the second level, facing an opening that was torn in the roof of the factory. It was like a giant claw tore a jagged gash in the side of the building, allowing orange-yellow sunlight to flood the dark chamber and glint strongly off the rusted metal that had been left untouched for months. It was over a half melted smelting vat that Orion informed Megatron of what Zeta learned from intercepted senate transmissions.

 “The functionists have Elmeth?” Megatron growled.

 “That’s what I believe. There’s been talk among the senate about a white femme being in Steelheart’s custody, and she’s being labeled as your accomplice.” Orion confirmed. He flinched when Megatron slammed his fist into the railing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t learn more. What we got was really vague.”

 Megatron grunted and glared out the hole at the orange sun. “Is there any way you can find her?”

 “Not at the moment, no.” He replied. He sighed and sat on the railing. “Megatron, what happened? How was she captured?”

 “I don’t have the slightest idea. She was probably ambushed and captured. But that’s the last of my problems.” Megatron turned around and walked past Orion. “I’m going to find the nearest Functionist base and find her before they brainwash her into being their assassin or something.”

 “And how do you plan on doing that? It’s suicide to rush them without a plan.” Orion got in Megatron’s way, glaring up at him. “You can’t just take a nucleon shock cannon and expect to blast the doors down!”

 “Every second we waste puts Elmeth’s life in danger! I’m not losing her now, not when I’m so close to bringing freedom to Cybertron.”

 “The Megatron I know would never resort to using violence to solve a problem.”

 “That was before I was beaten and talked down to by a beat cop on the senate’s payroll!” Megatron shouted in Orion’s face. The encroaching shadows that fell over them because of the increasing dusk made Megatron’s appearance look more menacing. His red eyes glowed with a blazing hatred the more he got into his rant. “Don’t lecture me on my methods Orion. What the hell have you been doing all this time?”

 “Fighting to keep tragedies like Nominus Prime’s assassination from happening again. That’s what!” Orion yelled back.

 “Fighting amongst ourselves is not productive.” Soundwave intoned, surprising the arguing mechs who never heard him climb onto the catwalk. “We should focus on formulating a strategy.”

 Megatron scowled and crossed his arms. “Fine, but we do this within a solar cycle, no later. I’m not leaving her at the mercy of those monsters any more than I can help it.”

 “Same here.” Orion said. He wanted to get this done quickly, possibly before Megatron did something that’ll get them both killed.

XXXXXX

 Nightshade stood across from Shadowkat, who was sitting on the floor in her beast mode. Elita-1 stood near her friend, feeling very uncomfortable under the intense stare down Nightshade was giving her. She watched as both former comrades engaged in small talk, which amounted to Nightshade seeking confirmation on Pax’s allies and his involvement in a foiled plot to frame the Decepticons for a bombing of the Primal Bascilla. She heard rumblings of some rebel militia, the Autobots, as so named by Orion Pax in front of hundreds of people. She admired his zeal and dedication, but she knew he had no place fighting in such a large scale battle like this. A cop had no place in a soldier’s battlefield.

 He had no idea how brutal the world was outside the black and white façade he lived in for so long.

 But right now, her mind was focused on Shadowkat. The feline femme looked no different from the last time they saw each other, but she had abandoned the innocence she once had before that fateful day. She was no longer that fearful little kitten, but a predator. Shadowkat looked worn, like she had something weighing heavily on her shoulders. The death of her lover still pressed down on her Spark every waking moment and the same could be said for Nightshade.

 “I never thought I’d run into you here of all places.” Nightshade said softly. “I thought you’d quit after…that mission.”

 “I’m not giving up until every one of them is dead.” Shadowkat growled. “But I can’t do it alone, and unlike your merry band of marauders, the Sons of Cybertron have more to give me.”

 “Never heard of them.”

 “Never will.”

 “Shadowkat, you would put your faith in a bunch of mix-matched bots who’ve barely tasted war?” Nightshade asked. “Into a mech who was no more than a worker drone just over a year ago?”

 Shadowkat switched forms in a violent shifting of parts and panels and stomped right up to Nightshade’s face. “I’d rather put my lot with a bunch of mechs smart enough to gain more information before an operation than a femme who’d waste the lives of her people on a damn hunch! On a mission that was way out of our league!”

 “Shado-“

 “How many bots aside from Blackbeetle and Forge died on your watch? How many died trying to satiate your need for vengeance?”

 “Shadowkat!” Elita-1 stepped between the femmes, pushing her friend back a bit. “Please, calm down. We’re on a mission.”

 Shadowkat’s sneer was something Nightshade would never forget for the rest of her days. “You like to say that you’re doing this for the good of Cybertron or some slag like that, but I know you. You and Soundwave have a personal vendetta against the senate and the functionists, and every bullet fired, every soldier killed, every building bombed is your way of getting revenge for the pain done to you.”

 “You make it sound like you’re any different.” Nightshade remarked.

 “I’m not,” she replied. “But the difference between you and me is that I’m not afraid to admit it.”

XXXXXX

 The airship _Carbuncle_ was a suborbital carrier that was the standard model used by most of the CDF forces in the eastern hemisphere. It was a dual purpose ship that acted as both a carrier and a weaponized airship built for transportation and heavy bombardment. Standard Carbuncle models were painted silver with the golden wings of the CDF symbol on the side for all to see. They were made to be fast and strong, but considering they were never really used in major confrontations, they were recalled towards urban areas

 But the ship that flew in Tarnian airspace was not the standard model. It was deep red with black highlights and composed of radar absorbent materials, making them practically invisible to advanced sensor arrays. But what was notable about this particular ship was that it had the symbol of a stylized Transformation Cog in place of the CDF logo…the symbol of the Functionists.

 In the hangar, Sentinel Prime and Ember watched as the workers loaded a giant silver ball over the cargo hold that was normally used for dropship deployment.

 “We have no room for error, Ember. If this gets traced back to me, then everything will go straight to hell.” He said.

 “Which is why we’ve disguised this warship as a functionist craft. People won’t see you, they’ll see Steelheart. And thanks to some information leaks, our little rebel friends will think it’s the functionists as well. You have nothing to worry about.” She smiled. “This beast of ours will be the perfect weapon against Functionists and Decepticons.”

 “For your sake, it better work.” Sentinel growled. “If not…”

 Ember looked unimpressed at his little attempt to intimidate her. She was threatened by more terrifying beings, people who could drive Sentinel insane ten times over. “Save the bravado for someone weaker than you, Prime. We have work to do.”

 Sentinel scowled at her, but turned to his men and nodded. A button was pressed and the Bombay doors were opened. Once the ship was positioned right above the city, the silver sphere was released from its restraints and fell to Tarn. Ember smiled as she watched it fall, a stellar creation of genetic modification and alteration. Her mistress would be proud.

 ‘Time to burn this world to ashes and remake it into the paradise it was supposed to be.’ She thought gleefully. ‘Here comes the thunder.’

XXXXXX

 Dusk had fallen over Tarn and the once bustling city was starting to quiet down as everyone began to head in doors. The curfew was starting to come into effect, and there were a few ships hovering between the buildings informing the citizens of it. Sky Spies patrolled the airspace in every geo-sector, running security scans on everything and anyone that looked suspicious, but thankfully the Autobots’ dropship was invisible to radar.

 Orion had everyone get some time to recharge; they spent the entire afternoon going over information they learned, locations of interest, what methods were used in the gathering of this information. All they had achieved was getting headaches and almost sparking a fight between Chromedome and Ravage (he had no idea how it started, although it might have something to do with the headmaster trying to ride Ravage like a noble steed).

 He found Megatron sitting on the edge of a rusty catwalk inside the factory, staring at the long shadows before him unblinkingly. Orion stared at him for a minute before plopping down next to him and giving the gladiator some company.

 “Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

 “What do you think?” Megatrons snorted. “I can barely even power down my optics without seeing her face, and then I think about what they’re doing to her.”

 “We’ll get her back, Megatron.” Orion promised. “They won’t risk harming her if she’s a valuable hostage.”

 “These people don’t take hostages, they take slaves. You of all people should know that.” Megatron replied. “They won’t leave her unscathed, not someone who’s so close to me. They could torture her, rewire her, dismantle her body or turn her carcass into a throne for that demented functionist witch.” His tone darkened with each word and his large black hands strained in fury. “Elmeth made me promise to continue our work even if something happened to her, and I stand by that vow, but if they’ve done anything to her, Primus help them all.”

 “I never pegged you as one for vengeance,” Orion noted. “Or someone who throws the first punch in a fight against an opponent they cannot see.”

 “Things change, Pax, as all things do in life.” he said. “I had to step up my game when I learned that the people in my own city would rather spit in my face instead of joining me in gaining true independence.”

 “So you encourage the use of violence? The riots, the bombings, the vandalism?”

 “Whatever gets their attention. If they won’t listen to my words, then they’ll listen to the sounds of their precious empire burning.”

 “That’s no way to get your word across. You can’t just declare war on the government. That could be used against you.”

 “Listen closely, Pax. This is not a war. I haven’t fired a single shot at those people, they’re the ones declaring war on us. You’ve seen how far they’re willing to go to bring us to heel. Words aren’t cutting it anymore. We’ve got to be more direct.” Megatron glanced at Orion at the corner of his eye. “I’m going to see this through to the end, no matter what.”

 Orion shook his head. Megatron’s lack of belief in the system was going to make the situation worse. He wanted to pretty much tear down everything regarding the senate and the caste system and rebuild society from scratch, but Orion knew that the only way to truly bring peace to Cybertron was to rebuild the government from within. When he told Megatron this, the older mech gave him a scathing laugh that made Pax cringe.

 “You have a better chance at finding the Proudstar. You can’t just reform a system that’s as decrepit as that. They won’t allow it, and the people won’t accept it once they learn the truth.” Megatron explained. “The people will want retribution for all the pain and misery the senate put them through, and that’s if you can survive the shadow war with the functionists. A fight like this requires a certain level of finesse, surgical precision. Peeling away dead metal for new sheets to grow in.”

 “That’s not-for god’s sake, you’re talking about war! You can’t kill a bot and say you put him to sleep!”

 “This isn’t a war, it’s a revolution! I’m doing what I can for my people. Our people! The same as you.” Megatron stood up and placed his hands on Orion’s shoulders, giving the shorter mech an earnest look. “Orion, join us. You’ve done many great things in the name of Cybertron after our last meeting, but together we can be so much more. Autobots, Decepticons, together as one army fighting for freedom and individuality. It’s what Elmeth would’ve wanted.”

 Orion could only stare at him in shock. He wanted to believe that Megatron was just saying this to shut him up, but the look on his face was too honest. He was serious about this.

 It was a tempting idea, untie their two factions as one, no Autobots or Decepticons, but a combined force with voices so loud the senate would not be able to silence them. A force so large that the Functionists would think twice about trying to silence them. A true revolution born of people from all castes and backgrounds, a unified race. But there was only one question…would it last?

 “I...” before he could answer, a bright light illuminated the evening sky, catching their attention. “What is that?”

 Megatron looked up at the sky and saw a great white fireball falling towards the city. It didn’t look like a comet, but something else. Orion and Megatron lost sight of the object as it disappeared behind the buildings in the distance, then felt the building shake as a violent tremor reverberated throughout the city. Windows were shattered and bots were knocked off their feet as the resulting shockwave pulsated throughout the impact zone. The two mechs would’ve fallen off the catwalk had they not been holding on.

 Pax!” Roller came running up the stairs with Chromedome’s headmaster body sitting on his shoulder. “Did you see that?”

 “Seen it and felt it.” Orion grunted. “What the hell was that? A meteor?”

 “Planetary defenses would’ve destroyed something that large.” Megatron said. “That came from within our airspace.”

 “Uh, guys?” Chromedome called out. “You should see this.”

XXXXXX

 Rescue teams and law enforcement were already on the scene, responding to this sudden emergency that fell right into the heart of Tarn. The fireball had impacted the heart of Tarn’s business district; the impact left a crater that went a mile deep and crushed the buildings under it, destroying them and killing thousands already. That didn’t include the number of buildings knocked over by the blast wave itself. As teams of pyrobots got to work on dousing the flames, everyone paused as another tremor came from the crater.

 The massive, intricately marked sphere that was dropped from the orbital carrier had started to vibrate in place. Them to the amazement of the bots witnessing this, it began to break apart. The carvings in its smooth metal hide were in fact connection seams that separated, armor panels folding and reconfiguring to reveal the massive form it hid inside. Pyrobots and medibots stared in awe as the sphere’s metal shell unfolded to resemble a large pair of wings, with feathers so smooth and sharp they looked like they were grafted from Cybertron’s very surface. The body the wings were connected to sported an avian design, but it was no creature anyone had seen before. Its body was sleek but heavily armored, and its form resembled that of a dragon with two sturdy legs and long powerful clawed arms, along with large, luminous wings. But its head was that of a silver falcon, eyes ruby red and sporting a sharp beak with pointed teeth barely visible inside its mouth. The beast, known in ancient times as the Kadesh, was about as tall as a two-story building, and its wingspan only added to the height.

 It was their awe at the strangely beautiful and terrifying creature that kept the surrounding bots from immediately running to the hills or firing their weapons. That would be their first and last mistake.

 The Kadesh opened its beak and roared a mighty shriek that could be heard for miles. It spun its body around and swung its massive tail down on the bots at the edge of the crater. Many were crushed and killed instantly, and hundreds more were injured. Soldiers opened fire on the beast as it climbed its way out of the crater, each footstep making the ground tremble like an earthquake. Onlookers who weren’t killed in its first strike ran as fast as they could to avoid its rampage as it stomped through the streets.

 The Kadesh cried out and slammed its head into the buildings around it, leaving massive imprints in the structures and even tumbled a few in its wake. Sky Spies flew over the area, recording the carnage for the horrified citizens watching the chaos. The Tarnian militia, both aerial and ground units, swarmed the beast, pelting it with an offensive wall of heavy weaponry from concussion bombs to proton missiles. It was hitting their target that was the problem (the thing’s size provided an easy enough area of fire) but the Kadesh’s armor plating was too strong for them to do any significant damage.

 The Kadesh’s red eyes angrily tracked the gunships shooting it and gave a mental command to its weapon systems; the armor panels on its chest, shoulders and the middle of its back to reveal a collection of prismatic orbs that fired powerful beams of photon energy that wiped out the gunships in one devastating sweep. They tore deep gouges into the ground and carved up the surrounding buildings like tin-foil. This was the last thing the Sky Spies managed to capture before they too were destroyed.

XXXXX

 The Autobots had watched it all occur from their dropship, shocked into stunned silence at the utter devastation caused in such a short time.

 “Dear lord, what was that?” Chromedome breathed.

“I don’t know,” Orion said. “But it spells trouble for us and everyone within 100 miles of that thing.”

 “What I’m more worried about is where did that thing come from?” Roller sighed. “What a mess.”

 “Sir, I’ve just got a message from one of our satellites,” The pilot said. “We’ve just detected a functionist orbitcal cruiser within Tarn’s airspace, without authorization. According to our information, it’s been there since yesterday.”

 “The functionists,” Megatron growled. “Of course it would be them. I’ll tear them apart!”

 “Megatron, wait!” Pax tried to stop Megatron, but the mech was already in his alt form driving off from the factory in a cloud of dust. He went to chase after him, but Nightshade pushed him back.

 “We’ll go after him and keep him safe,” She said, pointing a finger into his chest. “You Autobots better live up to your name and think of something. A lot of people are going to die tonight if that thing isn’t stopped quickly.”

 She ran off the ship with Soundwave in tow, leaving the Autobots alone. Orion had the pilot start up the engines and took a few plasma rifles from the munitions rack.

 “What’s our game plan?” Roller asked.

 “We find that functionist carrier and board it. If they really are the ones that set the monster on Tarn, then they must have something to control it.” Orion handed weapons to everyone and got into his seat. “That’s our plan.”

 “Board an orbital carrier?” Elita-1 said with wide eyes. “Just the five of us?”

 “We don’t have time for reinforcements. We have to do this now or Tarn is dust.” The other Autobots strapped themselves in as the ship began to take off. Orion gave his friend a somber look. “I’m sorry it had to be this way Elita, but consider this your first live training exercise.”

 XXXXXX

 “Look at it, Sentinel,” Ember spread her arms out to the flatscreen monitor on the wall that showed footage of the Kadesh’s rampage. “Isn’t it glorious?”

 “You could say that.” Sentinel grunted in distaste as he watched Ember’s little pet bring down a crisscrossing bridge with its head. “I’m more worried about it tearing down the whole city. I would like Proteus to have some of Tarn left to govern.”

 “Don’t worry yourself about the details. The Kadesh is ours to control. Once it has located the Decepticons’ hideout and leveled it, the beast will cause a system-wide shutdown and kill itself.” Ember explained. “As for the evidence, this ship and its emblem will ensure that everything that happens tonight will be blamed on Steelheart’s little cult.”

 Sentinel nodded, but didn’t feel any better. This was extreme, even for him. Setting a living weapon on a city-state without the knowledge of the senate was risky. No one else aside from Ember and Infinitus knew of this plan; with the headmaster saying that there was nothing to be ashamed about since Tarn was in need of a proper “cleansing” as he said. Infinitus said that no one would miss the malcontents and degenerates that pollute this city. He made a note to write Proteus an apology later.

 “Sir,” An Elite Guardsman ran up to Sentinel and saluted him. “We’ve got a hit on some people of interest in Grid Vega.”

 “Who is it?” Prime asked.

 “We’ve got a visual of Megatron heading towards the downtown area where the middle caste residence reside, by the Pit. Also we have visual confirmation of Orion Pax as well with his rebel team.”

 “Pax,” Sentinel growled. “That self-righteous bastard!”

 “I was wondering if he was going to show up.” Ember smirked.

 Sentinel glared at her as he gave the order for three platoons to shoot the dropship down and capture or kill Orion Pax and his allies. He wasn’t going to have Pax ruin this for him. Not now. He was going to win this war no matter what!”

XXXXXX

 “This is crazy,” Elita-1 whispered to herself. “This is crazy.”

 “You’re repeating yourself.” Shadowkat teased.

 “Shut up! I’m not in the mood.” She hissed.

 The ship flew through Tarn, below the wandering Sky Spies that flew above them at high altitudes. They were cutting straight through the city towards the Kadesh as they tracked its trail of destruction back to its impact point, where it would try to find the ship. That was difficult alone, seeing as the carrier would be invisible to scanning equipment.

“So we head to the place where that thing dropped and then what?” Chromedome said. “Just look around for any suspicious aircraft? I doubt the functionists will stay in one place after setting a rabid dragon-bird on us.”

 “We don’t have time to play the guessing game,” Orion said. “We’ll have to go above the clouds and-“

 He almost fell out of his seat when the ship began to lurch violently and shake. Roller wasn’t so luck and hit the floor at Shadowkat’s feet. “What hit us?”

 “EMP!” The pilot yelled. “Navigation and communications are down!”

 “Can you pull us up?” Shadowkat shouted over the blaring emergency sirens.

 “No! We’re dead in the air!” The ship spun around in the air as it fell to the streets, smashing against the side of a building before hitting the ground nose first. The ship bounced a couple of times before skidding along the gravel, sparks flying from its underside as it slowed to a halt just before a lamp post that ironically said ‘stop’.

 The back hatch was blasted open and Roller stumbled out with Orion and Elita-1 in his arms. Shadowkat followed after them, a thin cut on her forehead leaking energon. Chromedome and their pilot was nowhere to be seen, but they were all right with superficial damages.

 “That wasn’t fun.” Elita-1 groaned. “Is everyone okay?”

 “Pilot’s dead.”  Roller spat out some energon and hefted his gattling gun onto his shoulder. “And our only way out of this hellhole is slagged, so no, we’re not okay. So Pax, you have any other ideas?”

 “We need to haul aft before the militia tries to blast us. They’re the one who probably shot us down.” Orion said. He looked around for their fifth member. “Where’s Chromedome?”

 “In here!” Coughed a tiny voice. Chromedome, in his headmaster body, stumbled out of the ship nursing his right arm. Elita-1 blinked at the suddenly tiny mech she barely recognized.

 “Chromedome? You’re a-“

 “He’s a headmaster, they’re hard to kill.” Roller said and knelt down to his friend. “Where’s your body?”

 “Inside, pinned under some shrapnel. I couldn’t move it.” He coughed.

 “Let me get you out,” Shadowkat offered.

 Orion looked down the street and saw three armored transports drive down the street straight for them. He took out his rifle and fired a few blasts at the armored trucks. “Make it fast, Kat, we’ve got company.”

 Shadowkat and Chromedome went back inside the ship while Roller, Orion and Elita-1 took cover behind the fallen wing that broke off upon the crash landing. Orion pulled out a thermos-rocket launcher ad fired three heat seeking rockets at the convoy in the lead. The first rocket took out one of the wheels, the second hit the vehicle dead on, knocking it off balance and onto its side. Roller’s beam gattling gun fired nearly 2,000 rounds per minute, pelting the thick armor of the second one before a rocket strike from Orion forced that one to a stop as well. The third convoy had enough sense to stop and let its soldiers off.

 “Slag!” Orion ducked behind their cover as the mechs opened fire with a lot of heavy weaponry. Plasma bursts and missiles hit the side of the ship with astounding force and they had very little room to return fire. “Kat, move it!”

 “I’m moving slaghead, don’t rush me!” She shouted.

 Shadowkat was trying to move Chromedome’s main body slowly from where it was trapped under a sharp piece of debris. A long, sharp piece of metal was lodged into his lower abdomen, and she had to maintain contact with his body in order to phase it out of where it was trapped. Chromedome himself was unscathed, his Minicon-like body didn’t feel any pain so long as he remained separate from his main body. Once Shadowkat had pulled the body free, she dragged it outside to where the others were engaged in the light show that was their firefight.

 “He’s out!”

 “Then we gotta move!” Roller said, chucking a grenade at the Guardsmen.

 “What?” Shadowkat glared at Roller. “Chromedome’s injured! We can’t leave that metal in his body!”

 “We can’t give him treatment in a place like this, Kat.” Orion said. He took out a few EMP grenades and handed them to Elita-1. “Elita, give us some cover.”

 Elita-1 nodded and took the grenades, surrounding them in magenta colored spheres of TK energy and sending them straight at the soldiers. They were protected from the laser blasts and were able to dig into the heart of the soldiers’ formation, and detonated them. An electrical surge knocked most of them out on contact, while a few remained online but frazzled. For them, Elita-1 knocked them out in a more painful manner-telekinetically uprooting the ground and smashing large rocks into them, pinning them under tons of rubble.

 ‘I’ll never get used to that.’ Orion thought as he helped Shadowkat drag Chromedome’s body into an alley. He got to work on giving the headmaster medical treatment while Roller and Elita-1 kept watch.

 “So, our ride’s trashed and we’re stuck on the ground. What now?” The ghost kat asked.

 “First we go to the Pits and find Megatron. He might be able to get us a ship or something we can at least use to call for help.” Orion explained as he pulled the metal out of Chromedome. The headmaster winced as he watch it all, but refrained from complaining. “Then we find a way to at least stall that thing’s advance until the militia can bring it down. Until then, that carrier is out of our reach.”

XXXXXX

 The Kadesh continued to march through the middle of Tarn as it made its way towards the Pits, where the gladiator arena matches were held, and where it was believed most of the city’s Decepticon population convenes. Unlike earlier, where it would move through the streets, the beast decided that it would be faster to just smash its way through the buildings, causing even more damage. It was only a third of the way to its destination; it would’ve been more had it not been slowed down somewhat by the army blocking its way.

 “Take out its legs! Drop it!” General Ravus of the 2nd Tarnian batallion ordered. An old mech who was one of the few living veterans of the Quintesson wars, he had seen his fair share of horrors and intense fights. He hardly considered this giant beast to be on the same level as fighting a horde of Sharkticons, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t taking this seriously.

 He had his ground forces, a nearly impenetrable wall of mechs and femmes who changed into tanks, ready on a collection of bridges, firing long range particle blasts and fusion bursts at the Kadesh’s chest and legs. This assault came from not only the front, but also the left and right, attacking from three different directions to give it a hard time to truly retaliate. Ravvus grinned as he saw the beast give a sharp cry.

 “Keep shooting, we’re hurting it!” He shouted.

 No, they weren’t hurting it. Only pissing it off. The Kadesh decided to focus on the bots on the sides that were dealing the most damage, firing ivory colored laser arrays from its shoulders that completely decimated the bridges they were positioned on, along with the buildings they were connected to. Ravvus looked at the impact points on its body with his scopes and was incensed to see that they barely made any significant damage aside from a few pieces of armor that were blown off.

 “Sir, we’re not doing any damage.”

 “I can see that!” Ravvus growled. “Call in the Seekers! We need air superiority now!”

XXXXXX

 Miles away from the scene of the battle, Megatron and his Decepticons were hard at work evacuating the civilians who were still in the area. Megatron knew that the Kadesh was heading towards the Pits and was hard at work at getting as many people as far away from there as possible. His Decepticons, always quick to follow his example, also helped and they were picking up the slack in taking care of their fellow caste bots, unlike the police force that had completely abandoned the sector after taking out the upper echelons. It was rare to see such comradery in a place like Tarn, but Megatron was adamant about not leaving the miners and workers, the people he left behind upon becoming a pit fighter.

 “Megatron, we need to go. It’s only a matter of time before that thing gets too close.” Nightshade urged him. “If it doesn’t get us, the stray shells from the militia will.”

 “I’m not leaving until everyone is out!” Megatron yelled at her. He thought back to his old friend, Terminus, his mentor and the mech who was left behind on Messatine when the energon mine there caved in. “Not this time.”

 They were standing on the edge of the sloping platform that connected the upper levels to the Pyramid down below. Gladiators, blacksmiths, medics, everyone was clamoring to escape the coming destruction that was out to get them. Unfortunately, they no longer had to worry about that, as a large fireball impacted the bridge, killing many in one hit.

 Megatron and Nightshade jumped back as plumes of orange and red flames spontaneously blossomed in the middle of the crowds, blasting mechs apart, incinerating femmes alive and scorching bots that Megatron had fought with for ages. He was painfully helpless as he watched many of these bots burn in the span of seconds, a raging inferno roaring in the Pits. Many managed to get to safety, but almost half of the people here were killed by the sudden assault. And Megatron knew it was no accident from faulty pipelines.

 “Who the hell did this!?” Megatron shouted into the night sky. “Show yourself coward! Where are you!”

 He got his answer when an arrow was fired at his face. Nightshade was quick enough to push him out of the way of the arrow, but they were both still caught in the explosion that blasted them apart. Megatron hit the ground, the right side of his face scorched and blackened, and his arm severely burnt. Nightshade was relatively unscathed. But they both were on their guard as a vermillion bird flew out of the inferno and landed before them.

 “How does it feel, Megatron?” Ember smiled. “To see everything you’ve cherished burn in hellfire? This will soon be Cybertron; the future of the planet that birthed a race of ungrateful heathens!”

 “Who the hell are you?” Nightshade hissed. He fired her neutron rifle at her, but Elmeth switched to robot mode and instead breathed a wave of fire at her, forcing her to jump away.

 “I am Ember, of the Order!” She announced, flaring out her wings. Megatron’s eyes widened and she smirked. “Yes, you’ve heard of me. Elmeth once spoke of us and our cause. Probably in a negative light.”

 “What are you doing here?” Megatron asked.

 “Tying up loose ends for a partner of mine. Since he’s too damn incompetent to kill you through direct or indirect means, I decided to do him a favor and kill you myself.” Ember replied. “A repayment for helping my pet stretch its wings in this cesspool of a city.”

 “Your pet? This is your doing?” Nightshade gaped. What the hell was going on here?

 “In a way, yes. But let’s face it, this city was going to get trashed anyway?”

 “This is our home!” Megatron shouted. “Elmeth’s home!”

 “No, it isn’t.” Elmeth’s mocking façade fell into a cold expression as she regarded the source of her ire. “She told you her story. She was one of us, a devout follower of the Stone Gods, but she turned her back on it all, ignored the teachings of our goddess. All for you. She saw this coming, but was foolish enough to do nothing to prepare.”

 Nightshade didn’t need to think hard on the implications there. “What the hell did you do to her?”

 “I simply gave dear Elmeth a long overdue punishment.” Ember grinned at the seething Megatron. “Don’t worry, you’ll see each other soon.”

 Megatron charged at Ember, extending a titanium blade from his right wrist. She weaved her body around his sword strikes, not letting her within more than an inch of her, before transforming and leaping onto his shoulders. She dug her talons into his shoulder joints and flew into the air, throwing him into the ground near an intersection. Nightshade, also in beast mode, rammed into her and they both fell to the ground. They transformed and dealt each other a series of strong punches and kicks and they both seemed equal in strength until Ember grabbed Nightshade’s arms and set her body on fire. Nightshade cried in pain as she was coated in extremely hot flames and Ember there her into the third floor of an office building.

 She landed before Megatron and ducked under his punch, landing a flame covered fist into his torso before slamming her arms down on his back to knock him to the ground. She was pleasantly surprised to see him grab her leg and throw her into a sign post, smashing through the neon lights in a shower of sparks that rained down on the empty streets.

 “You’re everything Elmeth said you are, Megatron!” Ember laughed. She hung off the remains of the sign post and waved her arm at the Kadesh as it smashed its tail into another building. “Now that we’re close enough, you can watch as your precious Elmeth burns your home to the ground!”

XXXXXX

 General Ravvus scowled as a trio of Seekers landed on the observation duck. He didn’t know the two blue and green mechs, but he recognized the solver-grey femme with the soulless red eyes. Deadscream, he knew her as, the Seeker commander.

 “I thought I called in for a strike team!” He grunted.

 “We are the strike team.” Deadscream smiled. He tried to ignore how her lower jaw stretched a little lower that a jaw shoulder, along with the filed down teeth.

 “But there are only three of you!”

 “Three is all that’s needed. Now where’s the target?”

 Ravvus pointed at the Kadesh rampaging through the recreation area, near Proteus Park. “Kind of hard to miss. Just keep the collateral damage to a minimum, got that?”

 “No promises,” Deadscream smirked and clapped her hands. “Dreadwing, Skyquake, on me!”

 The trio transformed into their jet modes and flew into the air, blowing exhaust fumes into the general’s face. He coughed and cursed the arrogant Seekers. It just wasn’t worth dealing with their slag.

 Deadscream and her unit flew over the Kadesh, circling around its head as she scanned for any credible weak points. The legs were already out of the question, but the chest and head were probably weak enough under heavy bombardment.

 “Drop your concussion bombs. Target its upper body.”

 They increased their altitude and dropped their bombs onto the beast, using their laser guidance systems to guide the bombs onto their target. The payload hit its target and the Kadesh’s upper body was engulfed in a cloud of flames upon detonation. Deadscream almost gave a “hell yeah!” until she noticed the two points of light shining through the smoke and flames.

 “Evade!”

 The Seekers split apart as the photon beams were fired from the Kadesh’s shoulders. Dreadwing and Skyquake performed evasive maneuvers to avoid the destructive beams. They tried to shoot their nose-mounted laser guns, but they couldn’t get a solid lock on it long enough to fire their missile load. Skyquake flew in close to fire two missiles at its head, but had to fall back when it shot its head forward and nearly snapped him in two with its beak.

 “Don’t get reckless brother!” Dreadwing warned and fired two missiles at its chest. The Kadesh actually reeled back at the projectiles impacted its chest, and Dreadwing was pleased to see that his missiles actually blew off a layer of armor plating. “Good effect on target!”

 “Good work Dreadwing!” Deadscream said and flanked the Kadesh. Aiming at the spot between its wings, she fired her missiles and watched with glee as the Kadesh roared in pain. Explosions riddled its back and it stumbled forward, lashing out with its tail to knock her out of the sky. Sparks, metal and magenta colored energon flew everywhere, showing that it was actually hurt.

 “You damaged it, commander!” Skyquake said.

 “Good shooting commander, now we know…wait,” Dreadwing transformed and hovered in place. “What is it doing?”

Everyone watching the battle grew concerned as the Kadesh bent over, and saw the power lines on its back start to radiate an intense light, like a star in physical form.

XXXXXX

 “Elmeth?” Megatron breathed. “You lie!”

 “For once, I’m telling the truth. That beast, the Kadesh, is a monster from the Age of Evolution. We rebuilt it, gave it a new body, but it lacked a properly working heart and brain. Which is where our mutual friend comes in.” Ember’s crimson lips grew into a devilish smile. “Elmeth unconsciously guides its actions, fueled by the beast’s primal urges to kill and torch everything in its path. Thanks to her being a point one percenter and a little mental reconditioning, its destructive power is unmatched by anything the senate or Functionists have to offer. As you’re about to see.”

 Ember transformed and shot towards Megatron like a bullet. She snatched him up in her talons and lifted him onto a rooftop in clear view of the Kadesh. She transformed and lunged at him, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back, slamming his head into the roof.

 “Your lover is gone, Megatron!” She cackled. “All that’s left is a beast ordered to do one thing; kill the enemies of the senate, the Decepticons, you!”

 She kicked him onto his chest and wrapped her arm around his neck, forcing him to watch the Kadesh unleash its ultimate attack. “Watch this, Megatron. This is what lies in store for Cybertron, your precious utopia!”

XXXXXX

 Orion’s team was only a few miles away from the Kadesh’s position when its body began to glow. From their vantage point on one of the bridges connecting two rail terminals, they saw its body become a miniature sun that lit up the formerly dark area, and they also felt the intense heat it emitted from its hide. Orion couldn’t help from breath a soft “Primus” under his breath to show just how awestruck he was.

 The Kadesh bent its head downwards and exhaled a massive cloud of black smoke, a form of gas that coated the streets black and filled the air with the stench of oil fumes similar in smell to methane. And like methane, this gas was also highly flammable. All it took was a single spark at the back of its throat to ignite the gas…and Tarn began to burn.

 To those who weren’t incinerated by the firestorm, they would later describe it as a cloud of flames so tall that even the skyscrapers weren’t spared from the infernal onslaught. The streets and buildings were engulfed in white flames that melted the very ground the buildings’ foundations stood on. The fire breath scorched miles of Tarnian territory without pause, but it only got worse from there. The Kadesh increased the pressure of his flames, condensing its fire breath into a highly pressurized beam of energy that carved into the landscape. General Ravvus and his battalion were vaporized on the spot as the beam slashed over their position. As the Kadesh angled its head upwards, its prismatic array unleashed another laser light show that caused more destruction to its surroundings. From her vantage point, even the normally infallible Deadscream couldn’t believe her eyes.

 “That thing is too powerful.” She said. Deadscream was a hard gal to shoot down, but she wasn’t willing to test the limits of her immortality against that thing’s power. “Retreat Seekers. We’re getting the hell out of here!”

 “But what about the city?” Dreadwing asked.

 “It’s fragged. This hell hole isn’t worth dying for.”

 Dreadwing hated leaving a battle unfinished, but the odds were completely stacked against them. He prayed for the people of Tarn as he follow his brother and commander away from the chaos back to Vos, into the smoke laden clouds above.

 The Kadesh would continue to spread its flames across the city, slashing its beam in a wide arc that bisected dozens of tall buildings like a cake, bringing down battleships and tearing down monumental statues. After just a few minutes (which felt like an eternity) the Kadesh’s fire breath tapered out back into its normal flames before that too sizzled out. Its body cooled down and it took a few steps forward before coming to a stop, its eyes going dark.

 Orion watched it all in silence. He and his friends were unable to fully process what they just witnessed, only that a lot of people just died in the past five minutes. No one said a thing. What could be said in this situation? Other than to point out how utterly outmatched they were.

 “Pax,” Chromedome shook Orion’s shoulder. “Pax, we’ve got to go.”

 “Go? We’re not going anywhere.” Orion muttered. His voice was dull and empty, like something just died inside.

 “Orion it’s too dangerous to stay here.” Elita-1 said. “We need to retreat-“

 “WE ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!!!” Orion shouted, whirling upon her so fast he almost got whiplash. “That thing can’t be allow to roam free. The Functionists just unleashed a superweapon and killed thousands of people in a single night. We are not running!”

 “So what the hell do you want us to do? Throw rocks at the damn thing?” Shadowkat sneered. She was not getting killed because Pax was a sore loser.

 “We are going to attack it while it recharges,” Orion said, turning back to glare at the Kadesh. “We’re going to kill that monster tonight, or die trying.”

XXXXXX

 “Hmm, I didn’t think that it would need to rest after that. Must be a kink in the system.” Ember hummed and looked down at the horrified Megatron. “See? That’s the power I have at my disposal. The power given to be by the true masters of Cybertron. Not those degenerates in the senate, not those childish inquisitors in the Functionists, only my lord Mother. A goddess Elmeth once served before she was distracted by savages like you!”

 Megatron glared up at her. “I’ll kill you!”

 “Get in line, sweetie.” Ember kicked him in the face and formed her bow, pulling the string back. “Good night, Megatron of Tarn.”

 She almost let the string go, but was suddenly hit by a volley of mini-rockets that caught her in the right side of her body. Nightshade, with Soundwave in her claws, flew up onto the roof and threw her partner at Ember. Soundwave rammed his shoulder into Ember’s face and kicked her off the side of the roof. She transformed to beast mode and flapped her wings glaring at the three.

 “This isn’t over, Megatron. You may have survived, but Elmeth is on borrowed time!” She howled. “Even as we speak, your so-called friend Orion Pax seeks to kill the Kadesh!”

 Ember circled around and flew into the distance, giving a chilling caw as she vanished into the scorched horizon. Nightshade and Soundwave helped Megatron to her feet.

 “We need to get you to a doctor.” Nightshade said, but Megatron pushed them away.

“No, I must go,” He grunted, wincing as he felt a searing pain in his left arm. He looked up at the still form of the Kadesh in the distance. “I have to save her!”

 Nightshade and Soundwave were smart enough not to try to stop him. They helped him get back down to street level and he transformed into his tank mode, driving into the ruined city. Only one thing was on his mind, and that was getting Elmeth back…and stopping Orion Pax from making the biggest mistake of his life.

XXXXXX

 As it turns out, they didn’t have to call for another dropship, as Zeta had immediately sent one to Tarn upon seeing the news coverage of the Kadesh’s rampage through the city. Skyfire was assigned to evac Orion’s team, but Pax had convinced her to hold up on that. After learning that Skids and Windcharger were also onboard, Orion told them of his plan, and got the reaction he was waiting for.

 “Are you insane?” Skids exclaimed. “We can’t fight that thing!”

 “Don’t bother, he’s already made up his mind.” Roller groaned.

 “Brute force and overwhelming firepower won’t make a difference in this operation, so we’re going to have to think smaller.” Orion told his team. “We need to find a weak point in its body and capitalize on that.”

 “Like a HEAT round?” Chromedome noted, rubbing the patched up hole in his chest. “Focus enough kinetic force into a single point to destabilize the armor?”

 “Exactly,” he nodded. “The missile strike the Seekers fired on its chest left a mark and blasted of some of its armor. It’s weakened but not by much. I intend to finish what they started.”

As the gunship approached the Kadesh’s location, Orion laid out their plan of attack. Skyfire will lay down some machine gun fire on its head to get its attention. That was so that it could fully recharged its plasma beam and start torching the city again. Roller, Skids and Chromedome will attack as the legs, hoping for a miracle they could do enough damage to make it fall. As for Orion, Elita-1 and Windcharger…

 “Elita, Windcharger, you’re job is to help me get close enough to that thing for me to use this,” He took out a launcher that looked like a harpoon gun along with a bag of metal rods sharpened to a point. “This is a rail gun that fires kinetic harpoons made of tyrrenium. The Elite Guard uses them to take down the really heavy bots that give them problems.”

 “There’s no way that little pea shooter can do any damage to that thing’s hide.” Windcharger pointed out.

 “I know, which is why I need you and Elita near me to increase the speed of the harpoon the minute I fire it. I figured that a master of magnetism and a telekinetic sorceress could turn this thing into a lethal weapon by the time it reaches its chest.”

 Elita-1 shook her head. “I’m sorry, Orion, but this is crazy. That monster will burn us to molten slag.”

 “Not if we’re fast enough.” He replied and shouldered the rail gun. “Now look alive people. That thing dies tonight!”

 Skyfire deposited Orion, Elita-1 and Windcharger on a rooftop before dropping Roller, Skids and Chromedome on the ground. They transformed to their alt modes and drove towards the Kadesh’s feet, while Skyfire positioned the gunship in front of the sleeping beast.

 “Wakey, wakey!” Skyfire fired the dropship’s laser cannons at its face.

 The surprise attack forced the Kadesh out of its slumber. Its red eyes lit up and its head thrashed around. Skyfire moved the ship back a bit but didn’t let up on her attacks. When it opened its mouth and fired a stream of flames at her, she dived to the side, with the fire breath trailing after her.  Down below, Roller and his team fired their weapons as well, peppering its legs with plasma bursts and missile fire. The Kadesh roared and stomped its foot, trying to deal with more of these pests that dared to attack it.

 Orion and his group ran across the rooftops, hopping from building to building to circle around to its front while closing the distance between them. They had to time their attack perfectly or risk getting hit by friendly fire or missing the money shot. They only had three rods so every shot had to count. Windcharger used his powers to help them jump over the gaps between the buildings.

 “Skyfire, how are you doing?” Orion asked over the comm.

 “Great, but this thing can take a pounding!” Skyfire said. “I’ve managed to lay down some blows to its chest, but it’s starting to get really mad.”

 “Keep it in place. We’re running out of room to run!”

 “I’m not a miracle worker Pa-AHH!”

 Orion looked up to see the gunship’s tail caught in the beak of the Kadesh. It thrashed the vehicle around before tossing it away, sending it crashing into the street below. He cursed when he saw its head snap towards them.

 “Windcharger, get us out of here!” He yelled.

 The Kadesh fired a fireball at the rooftop they were standing on. Elita-1 pushed the mechs behind her and raised a telekinetic shield to block the fireball just as it hit them. The entire rooftop exploded and took most of the building along with it.

XXXXXX

 “I knew this was a bad idea!” Skids cried out as he fired his laser gattling gun at the Kadesh’s ankles.

 “Just shut up and shoot!” Roller fired three more rockets at its knees. They were steadily chipping off bits of armor around the joints, but not enough to really make a difference. Then a large tail caught him in the side and sent him crashing into a store window.

 “Scrap!” Chromedome grabbed Skids and pulled him back as the Kadesh glared down at them. “Skyfire, Shadowkat, we need an exfil!”

 He got no response on the comm-link and fell to his knees when he saw the Kadesh take a deep breath to rain down its fiery breath on them. He shook his head as he thought of the last thing Prowl said to him in their last argument; how he criticized the headmaster for running into things without thinking it through. How that would be the death of him.

 ‘I hate it when he’s right.’ He thought sadly. ‘Goodbye Prowl.’

 Just as the Kadesh was about to exhale, something hard and sharp hit the back of its head, blasting a hole at the base of its spine. Flames were spewing from its mouth as it spun around to glare at the red and blue mech that attacked it.

 “I’m the one you want monster!” Orion Pax roared, banging the rail gun against the side of a building to make some noise. “Fight me!”

 He transformed and drove away from the beast as it cried and charged after him, its wings digging into the buildings around it. Orion made sure it was following him before taking the path to the scorched are that it doused its fire breath in earlier. There, it would meet its end.

XXXXXX

 “Oh god, I’m dying!” Windcharger groaned dramatically, smacking the back of head into the stone behind him.

 “You’re not dying, Windcharger.”

 “But the pain…”

 “Is coming from your leg,” Elita-1 clarified dully. “Which is not that bad.”

 That wasn’t a total lie. He had a metal pipe sticking out of his thigh and bits of glass sticking into his chest, but it was nothing life threatening. She managed to keep the barrier up long enough to cushion their fall before the debris caught them. Now she had to figure out where to get him some help.

 The sound of tank treads on the debris caused her to grab her rifle and point it down the alley. She didn’t relax when she saw that it was Megatron and his two “bodyguards”. He didn’t even wait to finish transforming when he asked her about Orion’s whereabouts.

 “He went to draw the monster out into the disaster area. He’s dead set on killing that thing!”

 “No, no he’s making a mistake!” Megatron muttered, showing the first bit of fear she ever saw him express. “Call him! Tell him it’s a trap!”

 “I can’t, he’s not answering his radio.” She glared up at him. “And what trap?”

 But Megatron ignored her and turned to Nightshade. “Get them out of here. I’m going to look for Pax!”

 Nightshade nodded. “Okay. Soundwave, go wi-“

 “No! I can do this on my own! It’s faster!” Megatron reverted to his tank mode and drove off. He had to get there in time!

XXXXX

 Orion Pax felt cold.

 Not in the physical sense (especially with all that fire that thing spat at him, everything around him felt like a furnace), no it was like a cold hand had grabbed his Spark and squeezed as hard as it could.

 He had lead the Kadesh out into the same area of the city that it had burned to the ground with its fire breath an hour earlier, far from the still populated areas. Flames licked at his tyres, scorching his armor to nearly melting point. A stray fire blast near him knocked him off his wheels and he transformed in mid-air, firing another tyrrenium rod at it. The projectile had hit it dead center in its chest with great force, enough to blast apart the last bit of armor that was protecting its inner chest. Then, as he saw its chest panels fall away, he was horrified to see that it wasn’t a Spark that lied in its chest.

 It was Elmeth.

 She was little more than a torso and a head, with her hands and feet amputated into rusted stumps. Her face, her beautiful features, were disfigured by burns and lacerations, and one of her eyes was missing. Wires extended from the back of her head into the inner part of the Kadesh’s chest. She looked like a corpse, but at the sound of his voice calling out to her, she twitched a bit.

 “ELMETH!”

 She could barely hear him thanks to her dulled senses, which were practically overloaded at this point. But she could still hear him and his voice woke her from her waking nightmare. She weakly moved her head in his direction.

 “O-Orion?” She rasped. Her lips barely move and her vocal synthesizer was severely damaged.

 “Yes, it’s me,” Orion felt like crying now. What have they done to her? “Orion Pax, your friend!”

 “R-run,” She begged him. Even as she said this, the Kadesh acted on its own, targeting Orion. “P-please…”

 The Kadesh fired a stream of white flames at hi, blasting holes into the ground. A ruptured gas line blew him away and he hit the ground hard on his shoulder, the rail gun landing next to him.

 “P-please…I don’t want to…” Bloody tears of red energon leaked from her eyes. “I don’t…want to…hurt…”

 She let out an agonized wail and her pain made the beast go berserk. The laser emitters in its shoulders and wings activated, sending photon beams shooting in all directions in addition to its fire breath. Orion jumped aside as a beam flew past hi, the explosion that trailed after it once again knocked him onto his back. He groaned and crawled along the ground, trying to block out Elmeth’s cries.

 ‘ _Orion…’_

_“_ Elmeth?” He coughed. He heard her voice in his mind, clearer, just like the day they met.

 ‘ _Orion,”_ She said. ‘ _I know this is not something you want to do, but you must kill me.”_

“No,” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “No, I won’t do it. We can save you. I can save you!”

_‘Orion please, it’s too late for me.”_

_“_ Don’t make me do this.” Orion whimpered. “I don’t want to kill you. What about Megatron? Can’t you at least live for his sake?”

 ‘ _This is out of our hands. Please, Orion, I don’t want to hurt anyone else, least of all you and Megatron.’_

Orion knew there was no hope for her, not in her condition. She was one with the Kadesh now, and to spate one would kill them both. He looked up at her broken body and saw a faint smile on her cracker lips. Shaking he picked the rail gun up and got to his feet, activating the laser sight.

 Megatron stumbled onto the battlefield in robot mode, forced to go on foot he saw the Kadesh standing still, roaring and wailing, then looked down and saw Orion Pax pointing a weapon at its chest.

 “NO PAX!” Megatron shouted, running towards them. “DON’T DO IT!”

 Orion didn’t hear him, his eyes focused solely on Elmeth’s face. She smiled down at him and closed her eyes as Orion muttered something under his breath before he pulled the trigger. The rod fired from the rail gun, shooting at the Kadesh at the speed of a bullet. Just before it pierced her chest, Orion heard Elmeth’s voice in his mind one final time.

 ‘ _Orion Pax, thank you.’_

XXXXXX

 Megatron awoke in a field of fire and ash. He groaned and crawled to his feet amidst the dirt and metal shavings that covered the ground. The blast wave that came from the Kadesh blasted him and Orion apart, hitting them both with the force of a freight train. It was certainly an experience to get knocked out by something stronger than any of his past arena opponents.

 Pieces of the Kadesh were scattered throughout the area, its wings here, its tail there, and when he woke up, he saw the dead eyes of the creature’s head staring down at him as if in judgment. But he paid none of that any mind as he searched for the only reason he was here. Elmeth.

 He stumbled over mounds of ash and debris like a protoform learning to walk. Everything was burning. Smoke blinded his vision. But a glint of light caught his eye and he ran towards it.

 There she was; a broken body perverted and abused beyond measure, her armor and limbs stripped away, crippled and blind to the world. A gaping hole no bigger than his fist rested in the middle of her breast. He opened his mouth, but could not utter a sound. He stumbled over to her and fell to his knees at her side, cradling her body to his chest.

 “M-Megatron…”

 His breath hitched as her face tilted towards his. He gave a teary smile. “It’s me, Elmeth. I’m here.”

 She gave a mechanical wheez that was supposed to be a sigh of relief. “T-than…Primuszzzz…”

 “Don’t speak,” He shushed her. “Save your strength.”

 “Megatron,” She coughed and gazed up at him with her single remaining eye. “I’m-zzt-sorry I wasn’t strongggg enough. I just wanted to-zzt-keep you safe…keep our dream alive. I hoped that-zzzzztt-we could see the new Cybertron together, but…” She gasped a dry sob. “There is only one seat at the table.”

 No…no…” Megatron inhaled sharply. Elmeth smiled up at him.

 “Mega…tron…I…lo…”

 Elmeth’s eyes went dark and she sagged in his embrace, but that sweet smile remained. Megatron closed his eyes and let out a silent scream, still unable to make a sound.

XXXXXX

 It began to rain a few hours before dawn. The fires started to die down as the light drizzle became a downpour. The city was quiet, as if in mourning for all the lives lost in that one terrible night.

 Orion found Megatron heading inside the cathedral Elmeth took him to, the one built for Mortilus, the god of death. He quietly followed the former gladiator inside the quiet cistern. The church was dark and quiet, devoid of the flickering flames or the colorful collage that the stained glass chandelier provided. The only light in the church came from a single white crystal that shined its rays down on Megatron.

 He saw Megatron place Elmeth’s body on the altar before the ebony statue of Mortilus and lean over her in silent agony. Orion walked up to him but stopped when Megatron spoke.

 “Leave,” Megatron said softly. “Leave this place, and never return.”

 Orion said nothing. He moved to place a comforting hand on Megatron’s shoulder, but the silver mech flinched away.

 “LEAVE ME!” He hissed.

 Orion took a deep breath and turned around slowly walking back out of the church and into the heavy rain outside. Had he turned back, he would’ve seen the hateful glare Megatron threw his way as he cradled Elmeth in his arms.

XXXXXX

 Orion walked the empty streets in the rain like he was in a dream-or a nightmare. He stumbled near the disaster area, which was nothing more than a swath of clear land burnt to ash by the Kadesh. Orion walked onto the wet, soggy ground and stood before the head of the Kadesh, eyes cold and dead, just like Elmeth’s. He knew that his friends were waiting for him just a few miles away, but he barely made it half way there before he slumped against the wall and slid to the ground, sobbing with dry eyes, the rain providing the tears he needed to cry.

 


	12. Trigger

Chapter 12-Trigger

 The Great Fire of Tarn, as the event was being called in the media, had reached every part of Cybertron in the span of just a few hours. The citizens were horrified at the sight of this powerful beast leveling a city as large as Tarn in just a single night. There were many questions, of course. Where did it come from? How did it get there despite city defenses? What did this mean in the grand scheme of things? The speculations flooded in, ranging from a prelude to an alien attack to a sign from Primus that he was unhappy with his children.

 But the “truth” came in the form of leaked images; photos of a Functionist airship dropping a white ball that had transformed into the Kadesh that ravaged Tarn. Not to mention some sightings of the vessel hovering over the city around the same area where the best had begun its rampage. The response was immediate as it was violent; the Functionists had something to do with that monster. Maybe they were even directly responsible for bringing the creature into Tarn’s airspace. Either way, this case of misinformation caused a lot of new problems for the Functionist Council, who ran damage control because of it.

 Steelheart was furious. She knew that this was the work of Sentinel Prime and his lackies. That “soldier boy” as she dubbed him, had a chip on his shoulder against them for years, and now he was starting to act on his dream of kicking her organization in the teeth and gloating about it on the DataNet. The bastard had the bearings to go and frame them, his genetic betters, like they were some wayward politician that had rustled his circuits. She wanted nothing more than to rip out his Spark and stomp on it as the light died from his eyes. But she didn’t want to start a war with the senate…yet.

 ‘That fool has no idea who he’s messing with.’ Steelheart thought coldly. ‘But he’ll learn. I’ll make him learn.”

 She was sitting in her personal chambers in Kalis, with Obliteration and Nightwielder watching the broadcasts with an air of unease and festering rage.

 “What should we do?” Obliteration asked.

 “I’m heading to Tarn to speak with Decimus and try to get Sentinel’s good for nothing ass on the line. We need to salvage this mess as soon as possible.” She turned her mirror-like face towards Nightwielder. “You will stay here and guard over the base with Deathpoint and Faultline. If anyone comes on our land without authorization, kill them.”

 Turning to Obliteration, she said, “You gather Regalia and Conflux from Nova Cronum. Ready out troops and be ready for any surprises. Heads will roll today and I doubt that I doubt that everyone will sit still long enough to hear our story. Dismissed.”

 Obliteration and Nightwielder bowed their heads. “All is one.”

 Steelheart nodded. “All is one.”

XXXXX

 Megatron hadn’t moved from the cathedral since he entered it with Elmeth’s body. An hour after Orion Pax had left him, Nightshade and Soundwave found him, along with a plasma flare they brought along. It was a device that emitted a strong plasma burst that could dissolve cybertronian bodies. It was used by gladiators to cremate warriors who had proven themselves in the arena; mechs and femmes who became legends.

 Megatron had placed Elmeth’s broken body on the flare and watched it burn. He didn’t take his eyes off her as her metal skin slowly peeled away, her optics shattered softly from the heat, her circuits melted and internal organs welded together. He watched it all with a blank expression and didn’t move from his position even as the last of her remains had been burned to ash. He sat there, in the dark, letting rain pour down on him from the hole in the roof. Nightshade and Soundwave stood to the side in mournful silence, letting the mech have his time to grieve.

 It wasn’t until the sun began to shine that Nightshade mustered up the courage to walk up to the still silent Megatron. “Megatron? Can you hear me?”

 He said nothing, but she knew he was listening to a degree.

 “Megatron, what are you going to do? This was obviously a conspiracy to attack you and the Decepticons.” She said. “Soundwave and I are here to help you, but we need to know what you plan on doing next.”

 Megatron sat still, staring at the white feather in his hands. Then he gave her a dull look and stood up, walking past her. Soundwave knew well enough to let him walk past as he headed for the door.

 “Where are you going?” She called out.

 Megatron didn’t pause in his stride as he neared the doors. “I’m going to the citadel to meet with the senator. And gather some friends of mine for the trip.”

 Nightshade was perplexed. “You’re going to start a protest?”

 “No.” Megatron stopped at the doors and glanced back at her. “No more words.”

XXXXXX

 Zeta of Sistex sat at her desk reading over the many reports of Tarn’s decimation at the hands of the winged beast. On the TV monitor, news reports on all the channels were also reporting on the rescue and relief effort in Tarn that were underway, looped continuously with random updates on the situation.

 “This is a nightmare.” Halogen of Iacon, another councilman sympathetic to Zeta’s cause, groaned with his head in his hands. “To think that things could escalate this far in a single night.”

 “Where the beast came from and what it is, is still speculation. But there are images of a functionist airship hovering over the city around the time the creature landed in Tarn.” Zeta sighed and tossed the datapad on her desk. “They really stepped in it this time.”

 “That’s an understatement. People are calling for the Functionists’ heads right now, and the other senators are fanning the flames. The people want someone to blame.”

 “And Sentinel is giving them one.” Zeta frowned. “Halogen, we’re teetering on the edge of crossroads here. The Decepticons are on the verge of tearing down the rest of Tarn in rebellion and the senate and functionists are on the verge of declaring war on each other. We need to do something now before the world commits suicide.”

 “Like what?” Asks Halogen. “What can we do that doesn’t involve starting a war ourselves?”

 “If the functionists really did set that creature on Tarn, then we must take action immediately.” She stared hard at Halogen. “We must take out the Functionist Council.”

 “Take them out? As in kill them? Are you mad!?” Halogen exclaimed. “If what Shadowkat says about them is true, then we’ll be fighting against a group of powerful outliers.”

 “All the more reason to eliminate them. The Council has a bigger god complex than the Seekers and the chaos in Tarn was their declaration of war against the senate. We need to stop this now before Cybertron is dragged into a war of two evils.”

 Halogen was about to protect her rash decision, when he heard footsteps behind him. They turned to see Orion Pax march into the room, haggard and exhausted, with a blank look in his eyes that made the usually bright, sapphire blue glow in his optics dimmer than usual. Ever since he returned to the Manganese Mountains, he had been deathly quiet, moving around the halls like a spector, rarely staying in one place for too long. Him addressing Halogen was the longest he ever spoke since his return.

 “It’s us or them, senator.” Orion said. “We don’t have a choice anymore. They need to go now before they attack another city and kill more people.”

 “Orion, do you have something in mind?” Zeta asked softly.

 “We gain as much information on the Functionist Council. Learn everything about all of them, their bases, their operations, key locations they put stock in. Then we hit them hard.” A dark look fell over his face. “And we don’t stop hitting them until every one of them is dead!”

XXXXXX

 ‘This is a disaster!’

 Steelheart’s thoughts reflected her worsening mood as she sat in the office of Senator Ixion of Tarn, listening to the politician read the rulebook on what he thought was a blatant act of “terrorism”. Obliteration stood next to her like a silent bodyguard, even though she was just as capable of defending herself if the senator got  They sat near the top of the citadel, which was one of the few places that weren’t touched by the Kadesh’s flames the previous night. Seeing Ixion so angry made Steelheart livid as well; a few months ago, this plebian would’ve been cowering in fear of her very presence. No one would’ve thought to raise a hand against her or the rest of the Council. But alas, their power was waning drastically, and this incident had complicated matters greatly.

 But the really catch was that the rest of the senate didn’t even know that it was Sentinel’s actions that released the Kadesh. The Prime had been working behind the scenes of his own conspirators to lessen the chances of his plans being leaked. Ixion’s anger was too genuine to be fake.

 ‘I know all of my carriers were present and accounted for, and were in no way within Tarn’s airspace. That fake Prime framed me, and had the arrogance to keep knowledge of it from most of the senate!’ She thought. ‘When this passes over, I’m going to have Sentinel get caught in a little “accident”.’

 “Are you listening to me, Steelheart?” Ixion growled, slamming his fist on his desk for dramatic effect. “Daydreaming in the middle of a private session isn’t in your best interests!”

 “I was waiting for you to run out of steam. Seems you have a lot of pent up aggression.” She quipped.

 “How dare you joke at a time like this!” Ixion stood up and leaned towards her. “You don’t get to joke after _your_ pet ravaged my city and killed-“

 A low rumble from Obliteration’s chest took the wind from Ixion’s sails and forced him back on instinct. The guards at the door took a cautious step forward with their weapons. Steelheart had Obliteration calm down before standing up, looming over Ixion by a foot in height.

 “Let me make one point very clear for that tiny brain of yours,” Steelheart began. “Neither I nor my colleagues had anything to do with this…tragedy as you like to call it. Though I doubt you give a damn about these people living in this city you moronic, sad excuse of a cybertronian. And that ship is not ours, so get your facts straight!”

 “Then whose ship is it?”

 “You figure it out, senator. You’re the one with all the answers.” She replied tersely.

 Ixion smirked. “But I’m not the one with something to prove.”

 Steelheart came dangerously close to blasting a hole through Ixion’s chest and crushing his head in her hand. But before any violence could be wrought, the senator’s aid came busting in through the door like Unicron was on his heels.

 “What is it?” Ixion scowled. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

 “I’m sorry for the interruption sir, but we have urgent news coming from the local police force. Apparently there’s a massive crowd of people heading towards the citadel. A rally being led by the Decepticons!”

XXXXXX

 It was the largest gathering of Decepticons since the Clampdown first began. Most of them were Tarnian Cons, but they were mixed up with bots from other cities wanting to show their support, many of them members of the middle and lower castes. No one knew how such a gathering took place without anyone noticing, but with the city in total chaos, the local militia (what was left of them) had other concerns than a few wayward Decepticons acting strangely. It was the same type of negligence that had led to the formation of the Decepticons in the first place, and it was going to bite them in the afts just like last time.

 The massive crowd marched through the streets like a violent, unstoppable river. It was a collection of shouts and jeers coming from mechs and femmes from all over the city, not just Decepticons but miners, smelters, forgers, soldiers, anyone you could think of. There were even some Minicons milling about the large feet of their Bulk relatives.

 And leading this large group of bots was none other than Megatron himself. He still had the damages he obtained from Ember; the left side of his face was burned, with his eye missing an optic lens, his right arm also severely burned, deep claw marks on his shoulders and chest. A weaker bot would be teetering on the edge of death, but Megatron was strong. His expression was hard as stone and displayed only a fraction of the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. He was on a mission, and that was to meet Tarn’s esteemed senator even if he had to drag the bastard out by his neck cables.

 Of course, Senator Ixion was less than willing to face an angry mob head on, but he had no other options. The entire world was watching Tarn, and that meant they had eyes on him. He wanted them to see him publicly deface Steelheart and her faction. With that in mind, he had to put up a feeble façade of bravery. He briskly bade Steelheart a goodbye and exited the building with four Elite Guardsmen equipped with MK 2 fusion cannons. Taking the elevator down to ground level, Ixion stood before the large crowd of a thousand angry bots.

 “Now I know you’re angry and confused. So am I. what happened here last night was a tragedy of unimaginable heights.” Ixion said in a loud voice. He had to cater to the bleeding hearts of these savages to avoid a riot on his hands. “But let me assure you all that we are going to find the cause of this and bring the criminals to justice!”

 “That’s a load of slag!” A young mech shouted at the front. “We all know that this was just a ploy to get rid of us. Let’s face it, you people in the senate wouldn’t hesitate to put us behind bars just for looking at you the wrong way!”

 “Now see here-“

 “Well we aren’t having it! You can blow as much smoke out of your gasket all you want, but you aren’t shutting us up. We’re sick and tired of being treated like scrap by a bunch of pencil pushing gearheads that couldn’t even throw a punch!”

 “Yeah, you couldn’t care less about us!” A femme shouted.

 “You’ll only provide aid to those upper caste clowns!”

 “Get fragged!”

 “Go to hell!”

“Burn!”

 The shouts and insults grew louder, dwarfing Ixion’s words as he tried to calm them down. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get through to the crowd through civilized means, Ixion snapped his fingers and pointed at the mech that had sparked the shouting match in the first place. The first soldier on his right aimed his fusion cannon and blasted a hole through the mech’s torso. The bot fell to the ground with a smoking hole in his gaping chest, and the whole crowd suddenly went silent.

 “Are you done yet? Good,” Ixion nodded. “Now as I was saying, we, the senate, are doing everything we can to bring those horrid criminals to justice. In the meantime, you all can help clean the de-“

 He was interrupted by movement in the front row-from Megatron. The gladiator moved with astounding quickness, pulling out a laser pick-axe and throwing it across the few feet between him and the senator. The pick axe caught Ixion in the shoulder, nearly severing his arm at the joint, and he stumbled onto his back. His assistant, Longshot, ran over to him and looked over his sparkling wound.

 “What are you waiting for?” Longshout shouted. “Shoot them!”

 Fusion cannons fired up and unleashed heavy energy blasts on the crowd, causing them to scatter. The gladiators formed a defensive line in front of the civilians and rushed at the Guardsmen. Many were shot down before they could get too close, but even more managed to close the distance between them and started cutting down the soldiers. As they clashed, the wounded senator was escorted back into the citadel for medical attention. Ixion had made a gross miscalculation, one that has tarnished his public image to his people.

 Back in the office several stories up, Steelheart and Obliteration watched the riot commence down below. She chuckled as she saw the pompous fool get injured by Megatron of all people. The mech made an obvious mistake that no politician worth their shanix would make and he paid the price for it. But soon she had forgotten all about the senator and focused her attention on the rest of the fighting.

 Soldiers and civilians were fighting in the streets, tearing each other apart. The Guardsmen had no qualms about using lethal force to quell the mob. They deployed EMP grenades and shock bombs to bring down some mechs, and shot down others with high powered plasma rifles and fusion cannons. But they weren’t unscathed. Some of the gladiators brutally beat down some soldiers and took their weapons, using them on the very bots who made them. Energy bolts and bullets streaked through the air, hitting the ground or the sides of buildings or destroying neon signs in bright showers of sparks. A frag grenade was dropped near a ruptured gas line and detonated, igniting the gas and blowing a hole in the ground, killing dozens alone. It was pure chaos, and it was so enticing to Steelheart.

 Then she saw Megatron, the Decepticon father and Cybertron’s bane. He was at the heart of it all, slashing and hacking away at his enemies with his broadsword. His face was a mask of rage, covered in energon and eyes glowing like fire as he sliced a Guardsman in half in one slash.

 “Should we do something, Steelheart?” Obliteration asked.

 “By all rights, we should let Megatron and his followers tear the army apart.” She said. “But this is the perfect opportunity to get the public on our side. Go down there and apprehend Megatron. Don’t kill him, but make sure he won’t be able to stand up again. Now, show the world the power we wield!”

 Obliteration nodded and took a couple of steps back before sprinting forward and smashing through the window. Gravity took hold of him and he fell towards the ground like an orange star.

XXXXXX

 Megatron was in a blind rage, hacking and tearing away at anything that had a badge. He ducked under a plasma blast that flew over his head and stabbed his sword into a soldier’s chest, gutting him straight through the Spark and slashing his torso from the chest up. He spun around and beheaded another soldier in one swipe of his blade. He took a moment to study the chaos around him and was pleased to see that his gladiators were starting to gain the upper hand against the Elite Guardsmen.

 “Burn it all to the ground!” Megatron bellowed. “Tear them apart! Show them how strong we are!”

 Someone grabbed him from behind and he quickly spun around, grabbing his offender by the neck and squeezing until his iron grip crushed the soldier’s neck cables in a gush of light energon. As he tossed the body away, Megatron thought of how ironic this was; he spent so many years trying to avoid an all out riot like this from taking place, in hopes that his words alone could bring the Decepticons to victory. And all it took was a single hour for him to galvanize his people into beating their oppressors down to the ground. He felt a hand grab his foot and stomped on the fallen mech’s head. He was done talking. If this was what the senate wanted, then so be it.

 ‘I’ll burn all of this to ash and rebuild Cybertron from the ground up if I have to!’ He mentally growled.

 “Incoming!” Someone shouted.

 Megatron looked up and saw an orange light falling from the sky. It hit the center of the riot with great force, sending bots flying from the force of the impact. When the smoke cleared, it revealed a tall, bulky orange mech with a reflective face plate covering the majority of his head. He stood up in the crater he made and raised his hands, like a prophet addressing his acolytes.

 “People of Tarn,” Obliteration said, the power lines on his body glowing brightly. “Prepare to be cleansed.”

 He fired twin beams of orange energy from his hands in two directions and blew up large sections of the street. Everyone was sent into a frenzy as the outlier began slaughtering Decepticons and Guardsmen without discrimination. Some bots tried to blast him, but the photon beams did no damage to hi. Instead his body absorbed the energy and he channeled it into explosive beams that blew up more of the street and the buildings around him. Then he sprinted forward and crushed the heads of two gladiators in his large hands.

 “Why do you all run? Why try to flee when I’m just going to hunt you down anyway?” Obliteration droned.

 “Hyaa!”

 Megatron jumped at him from behind and punched Obliteration in the head, causing him to stumble. Obliteration threw a punch at Megatron, who jumped back and slashed his sword across his chest. He only managed to leave a shallow cut before Obliteration fired a plasma burst at him. Megatron avoided the blast and transformed to tank mode to escape Obliteration’s assault.

 “You come here for retribution, but instead you play games?” Obliteration growled, his arms glowing dangerously bright at this point. “You continue to insult us no matter what.”

 “I don’t play games,” Megatron said, spinning around on his treads and leaping at the outlier. “I’m here to teach!”

 He grabbed Obliteration’s legs and lifted the mech off his feet, swinging him around and throwing him nearly a full city block away to hit the ground on his back. Megatron switched forms again and charged at Obliteration.

 “I’m here to teach the world that you are not gods! You’re all just a bunch of cowards who hide behind words and nothing else!”

 He reverted to robot mode and stabbed forward with his sword, but Obliteration grabbed the blade and pulled him in close. Megatron had no time to block the punch to his chest that sent him flying back the way he came. He hit the ground hard, but rolled to the side to avoid the energy wave Obliteration fired at him. Obliteration ran at him with enhanced speed and leapt at Megatron. The gladiator deftly avoided the steel crunching punches thrown his way and tried to cut into Obliteration’s neck, only to have his blade shatter in the outlier’s grip and take a hard punch to the face that sent him through a window. That didn’t keep Megatron down and soon he was back on his feet, charging at Obliteration and trading blows with him. The energy Obliteration had absorbed was already starting to fade, along with the enhancements it provided him, but he still had enough juice to put some power behind his punches and make them hurt. But Megatron was seeing red at this point, not even concerned with his safety, just wanting to kill this fool.

 A kick to the chest sent him crashing into a lamp post, nearly toppling it. Obliteration ran at Megatron, but Megatron ducked under a punch and stabbed a piece of glass into a crease between Obliteration’s armor. Obliteration only felt pain for a minute, but it was long enough for Megatron to rush in and punch him as hard as he could in the outlier’s face, cracking his visor. Obliteration staggered back as Megatron unleashed a flurry of strong attacks on his body. He tried to punch, but had his arm grabbed and took a knee to his face, knocking him onto his back. Megatron jumped on him and started punching him repeatedly.

 “Die, die, DIE!!!!” Megatron shouted with each punch. He blocked out the world around him as he continued pummeling Obliteration’s face until it was just a mangled mess of scraps and wires and energon. Even when the mech’s head was completely smashed, he didn’t stop punching. Then a bolt of energy hit him in the chest and threw him off Obliteration’s body. He hit the ground face first with a sizzling hole in his chest plate and pushed himself up. He saw numerous bolts raining down on the other bots, vaporizing and blowing them to pieces.

 Steelheart landed on the ground like a feather, energy radiating from her body. She swiped her hand and killed several Elite Guardsmen with an energy wave that tore open the ground and sent debris flying into the air. Megatron got back up, only to get shot in the face again and fell to the ground.

 “Megatron of Tarn,” Steelheart said as she glided over to the damaged gladiator. “You’ve caused a lot of people problems, myself included.”

 “Go…to.. _zzt_ …hell…” He growled, his voice jumbled from static. The energy discharge was causing a massive shutdown was threatened to bring him into stasis lock.

 “I’m already in it.” She hissed. She leaned over him, his face reflected in her visor. “People like you, filthy blasphemers who think they can go against the natural laws, do not have a place here on this world. My world. If I kill you, they’ll worship you as a martyr, but I can send you off this world to a place where you will die alone, knowing how you failed you so-called people.”

 Steelheart’s body began to glow and she slashed her hands away from her. Bolts of energy were thrown everywhere, tearing apart unlucky bots, ripping apart the streets, destroying large sections of the buildings. She didn’t care who died in this assault, and she made a show of it. And through it all, she was laughing like a psychopath, her visor a glow with the orange flames rising into the air.

 Megatron tried to get up, but his damages were too great for his body to take and he fell back down, falling into stasis lock for auto-repairs.

XXXXXX

 Orion Pax at alone in the strategy room going over a holo-display of the target he was planning to raid-a functionist base. Zeta and a reluctant Halogen agreed to back his plan on assassinating the Functionist Council members, but fir they needed to do some damage; take away the pneuma-lion’s fangs per se. and that involved crippling them to the point that all they have at their disposal is their Enforcers, who could be easily matched by the SOC personnel.

 He was already in the midst of planning the operation’s most crucial stage when Elita-1 entered the room. The lights were off and she could see Orion’s form outlined by the glow of the display. She sighed and shut the door behind her.

 “Orion?” She said softly. “Zeta wants you to take a break. She noticed that you’ve been in here all day and wanted you to rest up before you drop.”

 Orion said nothing. He simply stared down at the hologram, running his stylus along the thin glass to draw essential routes of entry and escape. Elita-1 frowned and walked closer to him, placing a dainty hand on his back. The stylus in his hand stopped moving.

 “Orion, please speak to me.” She pressed. “Are you…alright?”

 He still had his back to her, but then she heard a quiet whisper come from his lips.

 “What was that?”

 He glanced back at her, his once vibrant blue eyes dull and lifeless. Elita-1 was unsettled by how dead his gaze looked, how this once lively mech had this aura of depression that could make an empty feel sorry for him. She knew that what he was forced to do still haunt him, and probably would for a long time. It was scary to see a bot so despondent like this.

 “You were right,” He muttered in a shaky voice. “You were right about it all. I should’ve stopped while I was ahead, before I got too deep into this. I should’ve…damn it, I should’ve cut myself of from all of this scrap! All the fighting I did, all the people I saved. I’ve saved so many people, but I couldn’t save the one person who needed my help the most. And all I get from this slag is pain!”

 Elita-1 hugged him from behind and waited until he was calmer. Cybertronians did not cry, and back in the age before the Quintessons, they never had the biological urge to do so. Contact with organic aliens had made them adopt unconscious habits such as crying dry tears or adopting gender roles to their asexual species. Elita-1 never knew what crying felt like, but she could relate to that soul crushing sadness she felt when she thought that one of her closest friends was possibly dead. That tightness in her chest could only be described as the closest thing to crying for their kind.

 “No Elita, I’m not alright.” He breathed, and slammed his hands on the table. “I’m never going to be alright until I wipe those bastards out for good. No more people will suffer from this farce of a power play! I swear this on the Allspark!”

 She could see the rage in his eyes. He was serious. Vengeance was a dangerous emotion, but Orion had a duty to prevent something like the Great Fire from happening again. She didn’t want him to get killed in this conflict, and she resolved to help him this time as his equal.

 “I’m with you, Orion. And so are your friends. We’re all with you, our Autobot leader.” Elita-1 promised.

 Orion cracked a little smile. “Thank you, Elita. For not dumping me when I became too much to handle.”

 Elita-1 shrugged. “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing what I want for once. Because this is my life now and no one else’s.” she hugged him again and looked away as she said her next words. “Besides, people do stupid things for the ones they love.”

 Silence.

“…Wait, what?”

XXXXXX

 Megatron woke up to a metallic smell filling his senses, like he was swimming in a sea of mercury. With a grunt, his eyes opened and a quick look around told him that he was sitting inside a prison ship. His arms were enclosed within stasis cuffs that mode locked his T-cog so he couldn’t change forms and he was sitting on an overcrowded bench with a whole lot of other prisoners; survivors of the massacre in Tarn’s city-square. The memories came rushing back to him; how he led a riot on the citadel, killing Obliteration with his bare hands and Steelheart spitting in his face. His body was still a little stiff from the two hits he took to the chest, but his repair systems were taking care of that. So long as he didn’t get into another fight, he should be back to normal.

 ‘Another fight.’ He thought. He never thought that he’d gather a large crowd like that for the sole purpose of causing chaos and inflicting pain. He killed in the arena sure, but killing outside the boundaries of the Pit, where there were no rules, no trophies, and no audience was different. it was savage, primal even.

 He lashed out in a fit of anger and sadness, a need to deal out his pain back at the people who took away everything from him. This had all been mere hours after cremating Elmeth under the shadow of Mortilus at the desolate church. He wasn’t thinking when he led the crowd or when he threw that pick-axe at Ixion. All he cared about was hurting someone, anyone.

 ‘And now it’s all falling apart.’ Megatron gritted his teeth. Tarn was in ruins, his Decepticons slaughtered and leaderless, and the only person he loved murdered by the mech he once thought of as a brother. His whole world was falling to pieces and there was little he could do at this point.

 “Hey.”

 Someone tapped his waist and he looked down to see two Minicons looking up at him. One was red and black, and the other was blue and black with large, heavily armored arms that looked like pile drivers with claws at the end. Megatron never thought highly of Minicons, but he decided to see what the hell they wanted.

 “Who are you?” He asked.

 “Name’s Rumble.” The blue mech said.

 “And I’m Frenzy,” Said the red one. “Look big guy, we need your help. We both saw what you’re capable of, how you beat the slag out of that freak with the wonky hands.”

 “And look where it got me.” Megatron scowled.

 “Come on, we’re tryin’ to set you free here. Our boss, Soundwave wants you back planet side leading the revolution that you’ve started.” Frenzy said.

 “Soundwave?” Megatron sat up straighter. The twins nodded, both sporting grins. Megatron hummed and leaned in. “What’s your plan?”

 “I get the guard’s attention, he busts the restraints,” Frenzy said. “Either way, we have to roll now. Rumble, do your thing.”

 Rumble focused his internal vibrations through his body and his little form started shaking hard enough for the vibrations to shatter his bonds. Frenzy smirked and whistled at a passing guard.

 “Hey bozo!” He called out.

 The guard glanced back and stepped over to him, glaring down at the Minicon. “Whaddya want squirt?”

 “Oh, just your attention.” Frenzy smirked.

 Rumble leapt up behind the guard and slammed his pile drivers into his back, the blow strong enough to make the larger mech stumble to his knees. “You little brat!”

 As the guard whirled around angrily on Rumble, Frenzy jumped on him from behind, scratching at the guard’s optical visor. It didn’t do much other than piss him off, and the Minicon was thrown to the floor.

 “Nice try, little slagheap.” The guard growled.

 Frenzy smiled nervously and said, “Behind you?”

 “I’m not falling for that.” The guard said.

 Unfortunately he failed to notice the now free Megatron standing behind him, cracking his knuckles.

XXXXXX

“And you cannot get a hold of Steelheart?” Ixion asked Longshot as he worked on fixing his damaged shoulder.

 “No sir, she had left the area with Obliteration’s body after taking out the riot. They’re not responding to any calls.” Longshot said.

 “Of course,” Ixion sighed. Sentinel Prime is going to be infuriated.

 At the helm, the pilot was trying to communicate with a prison ship that the surviving rioters had been taken to. They tried to make contact with the ship, but got no response.

 “What’s wrong?” Asked Ixion impatiently.

 “The prisoner transport shuttle is leaving its designated course, senator.”

 Ixion sat up straighter, trying not to let the worry show on his face. “And doing what?”

 “Coming about, sir!”

 Ixion looked out the window and saw the transport ship flying next to his personal shuttle. He cursed when he saw its cannons take aim at them, and then heard a familiar voice speak over the comms.

 “ _Ixion,”_ Megatron’s deep voice growled through the speakers. “ _Cybertron and its people thank you for your contribution and sacrifice.”_

The cannons opened fired on the shuttle, tearing into its hull with ease. Being a non-military transport shuttle, the vessel didn’t last long against the barrage of plasma fire and a hole was torn into the outer hull near the bridge. It was only by coincidence that Senator Ixion was near the breach in the hull and was sucked out into the air, where he was promptly destroyed in the short trade off of plasma blasts hitting his former shuttle.

 Once the prison ship did its thing, it flew back down into Cybertron’s atmosphere and into the Badlands region, passing over the black scorch mark that was Tarn and heading towards the neighboring city…Kaon.

XXXXXX

 Inside the Decagon, inside the weapons testing range, Sentinel Prime was busy testing a newly developed long barreled solar agitator sent to him from Nova Cronum. He heard about Steelheart’s little killing spree and couldn’t help but smile a little at the news. The Functionists were backed into a corner and all he needed was the senate’s approval for military action against the council. Honestly he wasn’t surprised to hear that she and Obliteration were outliers. They were freaks through and through and this only confirmed it. At least he won’t get in trouble for shooting them dead on sight.

 “Sentinel Prime, sir,” Prowl walked in with a datapad in hand. “We’ve just gotten a report of a beta-grade incident in Kaon airspace. We’ve lost contact with a shuttle and another is down…”

 “Don’t waste my time, Prowl.” Sentinel said, pointing his large weapon at the target, his mouth plate in place. “You know protocol better than anyone. So follow it.”

 Prowl frowned as Sentinel pulled the trigger and unleashed a continuous beam of plasma energy almost 10, 000 degrees hot. Prowl knew that working with Sentinel would be hard, but having to deal with his attitude was grating even on his steel patience.

 “Normally I wouldn’t intrude sir, but this involves a life-threatening attack on a senator, its policy…” He trailed off when Sentinel continued to fire his weapon without pause. “Sir? The senate…”

 Sentinel stopped shooting and sighed. Those senators were so week it disgusted him. Scratch them once and they start crying foul. “Life-threatening…as in fatal?”

 Prowl nodded. “All we have at this time is a distress beacon. Just prior there were reports of a riot in Tarn’s city square.”

 Sentinel snorted. “Fine then, you take it. I don’t have the struts to deal with another whining senator. If those morons gave me what I need rather than told me how to-“

 “I’ll have a report ASAP sir,” Prowl cur the Prime off for the sake of keeping on his tight schedule. He was getting tired of listening to Prime rant about his situation. “And I’ll make sure the senate is kept up to date.”

 “And out of my way.” Sentinel growled. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what the Functionists are dealing with.”

XXXXXX

 Shadowkat crawled through the rusty old aqueduct in her beast mode, trying to ignore the smell of oil and mercury contaminating yr water she was wadding through. The end of the aqueduct released water into a large valley that separated the pipes from the facility across the gorge. Elita-1, who was sitting near the edge of the pipe checking her weapons, greeted her with a smile that Shadowkat returned in full. They had grown close somewhat, probably out of moral support for each other in an alien environment neither femme was comfortable living in. They were partners on this op along with Orion Pax and Perceptor.

 This was the first of hopefully many missions to give them information to fully combat the Functionists. This mission was simple; a four-bot team would infiltrate the private estate of one a member of the Functionist Council, a mech named Fortuity. According to Halogen’s sources, Fortuity was a mech who liked to indulge himself in lavish parties and gatherings with elites who were loyal to the Functionists. It seemed that recent events failed to dampen the outlier’s party spirit. With this serving as a distraction, they were given an ample opportunity to get what they came for.

 “Pax, we’re in position.” Shadowkat reported.

 “ _Grapple onto the cliff just north of your position.”_ Orion said. “ _We’re in a cave overlooking the estate.”_

They fired their grappling hooks and pulled themselves across the valley and latched onto the other side, clinging to the rock wall where they tracked their friend’s signals. Orion and Perceptor were sitting at the mouth of a small cave behind a waterfall that was just a few miles away from the mansion. Shadowkat took a look at the multicolored lights flashing from the courtyard and frowned at the sight of all those lavish, well polished bots mingling amongst themselves.

 “So this is Fortuity’s crib, huh?” Shadowkat grunted. “It’s certainly flashy. I’m sure you can see the lights from orbit.”

 Elita-1 scowled at the sight of it all. “So this is what thousands of dead bodies will buy you.”

 Shadowkat patted her on the shoulder. “So what’s the play, Pax?”

 Perceptor handed a datapad to Orion, who brought up a schematic of the grounds and its perimeter. “Before we do anything, we need to take control of the security systems so that we know what the hell we’re looking for. Once we’ve hacked into their network, we will know where Fortuity is.”

 He pointed at a spot near the perimeter of the estate. “Right here is the control computer that not only monitors the security cameras but also deploys sky spies at regular intervals. Connect a data slug into the port and we’ll have eyes on the inside.”

 “Say no more, I’m already on it.” Shadowkat took the data slug and sprinted over the wall, shifting to beast mode mid-jump. Much like the cat she transformed into, Shadowkat was light on her feet and she was already hiding within the bronze and copper extensions that dotted the area near the supply shed. She waited for a guard to get close enough before firing a grapple hook at his face and dragging him towards her, snapping his neck and moving from her cover.

 She quickly made her way to the security center, phasing through another guard and tearing out both his voice box and Spark core as she passed through him like a ghost. She didn’t even stop in her sprint as she reached the building and jumped onto the roof, going to robot mode and snapping open the ventilation duct and slipping an EMP charge into the center. A quick flash was all she needed as she leapt inside and quickly made her way to the large terminal where the security screens were connected. She had to wait for it to reboot before plugging in the data slug and connecting Perceptor to the system.

 “ _Step on it, Kat. The spy spies are almost back online.”_ Perceptor warned her.

 It only took a second or two for the virus to download into the computer. Once it was done, she snatched the data slug up and ran back to the opening she made. The dormant Sky Spies were already flickering online when she climbed back outside and replaced the hatch. A second later, she got the confirmation from Perceptor.

 “ _We’re patched in. I have eyes on everything now.”_

“ _Good work, Kat. Preceptor, search the grounds for Fortuity. Kat, meet me in his private office. Elita-1, you’re on overwatch.”_ Orion directed.

 This was the second phase of the mission; sneak inside and get as much info as possible. Anything that could be of value for them to work on in the future. Shadowkat grinned and jumped off the roof, sprinting across the courtyard towards the main building where Orion was sneaking into right now. Honestly it was child’s play getting g past those dumb grunts and mindless drones. She was quiet like a shadow, and quick like an overcharged turbofox. Unless they were actively looking for her, they’d never notice she was here in the first place.

 She entered the mansion through the side entrance and was greeted by a lavish interior that was full of glass sculptures of Fortuity himself and digital portraits of the narcissistic bastard. Shadowkat withheld the urge to topple the sculptures and made her way through the side hall towards the study. She made it to the upper floor and jumped when Orion burst through the door to her left, shoving a knife into a mech’s head before tossing the body away.

 “Solid work, Kat.” Orion jogged over to the computer table near the fireplace and got to work on plugging a data slug into the console. “Perceptor, did you find Fortuity yet?”

 “ _Yes, he’s meeting with someone down on the sub-level basement, where he stores his energon containers.”_ Perceptor said.

 “Why do you want to know where Fortuity is?” Shadowkat asked.

 “You’ll know what we find him.” He replied.

 Frowning at his evasive answer, Shadowkat stood guard as Orion quickly searched through the files for anything important. He wasn’t too picky, especially when he came across what appeared to be maps and files on prototype weapons in development. He only managed to get about seven files before he was locked out of the system and an alarm started to sound in the mansion.

 “Slag, I got locked out!” Orion pulled the data slug out and stored it in his hip compartment as he walked around the desk. “Perceptor, show me where Fortuity is, we need to find him before we leave!”

 “What? Pax, we’ve already completed the mission! Let’s go before we’re swarmed.” She yelled.

 Orion ignored her as he ran towards the doors. Two mechs ran into the room, only to be shot down by Pax as he ran past them and down the stairs. Preceptor sent him data for an elevator shaft that went to the basement level and Orion quickly stopped in front of the shaft. Shadowkat begrudgingly phased them both through the metal doors and they fell down the shaft to the lower level, where they ran down a tunnel that led to the hanger bay.

 There were three armored convoys driving from the basement storage area outside, possibly carrying Enforcers to further fortify the estate after their cover was blown. Shadowkat was still questioning Orion as they entered the storage area, where there were numerous containers of processed and distilled energon, drinks that were worth more than Orion’s salary as a police officer, and other containers that were carrying a more mysterious element that were being handle with noticeably more care.

 Orion and Shadowkat grappled onto the metal grates and snuck along the top until they reached the far end of the basement, where they saw a bunch of workers hauling the containers onto the convoys. And standing there was Fortuity, who was speaking with a sandy brown femme with a humanoid upper body, but a long, coiled tail for a lower body. Her head and shoulders were sitting inside the open mouth of a cobra that acted like a hard shield for her head, which was arrow shaped with yellow eyes and a grey face plate.

 Fortuity was a dark emerald green mech who was small and lithe, with two wheels on his back that signaled his alt form as a motorcycle. His face was like that of his fellow Functionist councilmen, a smooth mirror in place of facial features.

 “I knew you were many things, Fortuity, but a coward?” They heard the brown snake-femme hiss. “A true warrior never turns tail and runs at the first sign of danger!”

 “Watch your mouth, Copperhead. I’m not running, I’m relocating.” Fortuity replied. “Steelheart’s orders are absolute. You of all people know better than to disobey her, and me, Copperhead.”

 Copperhead’s mouth plate retracted to reveal a mouth full of tiny, needle sharp teeth coated in acidic venom. She rose on her tail, hissing in his face.

 “Save your chomps for our intruders. And watch that tail! If any of those containers are breached, Steelheart will kill me on the spot!” He growled. He had no face, but the agitation was clear in his voice.

 “Somehow, that’s not such a bad fate for you.” She chuckled.

 “And need I remind you that I am the only reason you’re still alive? If I die, the other Functionists will have an open season hunting you down like the animal you are!”

 “I might just be willing to take the chance!”

 Shadowkat was recording the conversation, particularly the little tidbit about the dangers of a breach in their special cargo. It was clear that these containers weren’t holding vintage energon cocktails, but she was afraid of knowing what they really held. She glanced over at Orion and her eyes went wide upon seeing him assembling a sniper rifle in place.

 “What the hell are you doing?” She whispered.

 “Taking down a major threat.” He said, pulling out a cord from the rifle and plugging it into the back of his neck.

 “That’s not our mission.”

 “No, it’s not your mission,” Orion connected his optical vision to the laser site. “It’s mine.”

 Once he had an aim on Fortuity’s head, he pulled the trigger and let the bullet fly. The silencer cancelled out most of the noise and the bullet moved too fast for a bot to see with the naked eye. But just as the bullet was a few inches from the councilman’s head, Fortuity vanished in a quick burst, like his whole body was sucked into an invisible whirlpool in the span of a millisecond.

“What?!” Orion yelled.

 Shadowkat was just as surprised. “Where did he-whoa!”

 She jumped back as Fortuity reappeared in front of them, a pair of short swords in his hands that were heading straight towards Pax’s face. Shadowkat grabbed Orion and the swords passed right through his body.

 “Intruders!” Copperhead roared and coiled her tail up like a spring. She shot herself forward towards the stands, jaws wide open. She crashed into the stand and sent the structure toppling over, separating the two Autobots as they fell. The guards standing watch opened fire on Orion as he hit the ground and jumped away from Fortuity’s swords. Copperhead was already preoccupied with Shadowkat.

 “Orion Pax, the fearless Autobot! How nice to have you here!” Fortuity howled, slashing his blades at Orion’s head. The sharp blades missed him by a few inches and Orion kicked him away before standing up. “I’m the last person you should be trying to kill you rebellious cur!”

 “I make a career out of shattering expectations.” Orion drew his blaster and fired at Fortuity, but just like before, the bot vanished before the bolts could touch him and he reappeared right in front of Orion.

 Fortuity grabbed his head and threw him into a pile of containers, thankfully not the biohazard ones. The Enforcers fired upon him, but he quickly shot down two guards before rolling away from a downward strike from Fortuity.

 “I told you,” Fortuity laughed. “You can’t kill me!”

 Shadowkat was kept on her feet as she ran around dodging Copperhead’s large tail as it slammed into the floor. She was in her beast mode, a large cobra with fangs as long as the Autobot’s arm. Shadowkat easily avoided getting snatched up in her coils, noting how Copperhead’s size did little to slow her down.

 ‘She’s strong, but crazy,’ Shadowkat thought. ‘And that makes her stupid.’

It was almost insultingly easy to goad Copperhead into attacking her own soldiers. The female cobra fired jets of acidic venom from her mouth that melted the armor off the Enforcer’s steel bones, eating away at them in a horrifically slow pace. Copperhead had already realized that she was being duped and it only made her angrier.

 “Sit still you little glitch so I can kill you!” Copperhead snarled.

 “No thanks!” Shadowkat leapt over Copperhead’s tail and kicked her in the face, the claws on her feet leaving deep scratches on her reptilian face.

 “Kraaa!” Copperhead transformed and punched Shadowkat in the face, knocking her into the smoking remains of the melted Enforcers.

 “Ow,” Shadowkat rubbed her cheek. “That stung you glitch!”

 “And so will this!” Copperhead went back into beast mode and lunged at Shadowkat like a whip. Shadowkat had no time to think as she grabbed an Enforcer’s fusion cannon and fired it at Copperhead’s face. The purple beam hit its target and the upper half of Copperhead’s beast head was vaporized.

 The large snake fell to the floor, knocked off line by the relapse she suffered from losing her “second” head. She wasn’t dead, as the snake head wasn’t Copperhead’s real head, but the shock from taking a hit from the fusion cannon would be enough to keep her down for a few hours. Shadowkat let out a sharp exhale but jumped when Orion and Fortuity crashed through another stack of containers.

 Fortuity leapt at Pax, but Shadowkat fired her blaster at him, causing him to teleport in front of her instead. She ducked under his sword strike and shot at him again, only for him to teleport behind her and kicked her in the tail.

 “Frag off!” She growled.

 “Haha! Can’t catch me kitty?” Fortuity taunted.

 Orion jumped at Fortuity from behind and slashed at his head with his battle axe. The outlier vanished once more before the axe could touch him, but Orion rolled onto the ground before Fortuity could stab him in the back. Shadowkat ran over to him and they stood back to back.

 “Kat, I need you to follow my lead.” He said.

 “You lead? You got us into this mess!”

 “Just do it. Fire when I fire okay? You’ll know when.”

 Shadowkat cursed and charged at Fortuity, firing a fusion blast at him. He reappeared behind her, swords raised to cut her down. Orion pointed his blaster at Fortuity’s back and yelled “now!” and they both fired their weapons at him simultaneously. Though normally Fortuity would’ve teleported by now, he was surprised to see that he couldn’t warp away, and was instead held in place by some invisible force pulling him in two directions.

 Fortuity’s power was that he could immediately teleport at the first sign of danger against him, reappearing near the source of the danger. The teleportation was involuntary and he had no control over where he appeared. It was why he avoided fighting on the front lines, because he didn’t want to be screwed over by his power’s unpredictable nature. But when attacks from two people in two different directions come at him at once, his body would try to teleport to those two locations and would get stuck in place, unable to move to either location. This single folly in his powers led to the death of Fortuity of the Functionist Council, who exploded as the two energy blasts hit him at the same time, taken out by his own powers.

XXXXXX

 The mission was a success in a broad sense. They got the info they needed and also killed a Functionist member, but at the cost of compromising themselves and nearly getting killed in the process. Orion and Shadowkat left the crime scene and made their exit the hard way; shooting their way through a platoon of Enforcers and busting through the outer gates before jumping into the valley below, landing in the stream at the bottom. They were swimming in the cold waters for nearly an hour before Perceptor and Elita-1 picked them up.

 The flight back was quiet and tense, with most of the tension coming from Shadowkat and Orion. Just when Elita-1 finally worked up the courage to say something, Shadowkat decided to speak her mind.

 “What the hell were you thinking?” She snapped. “You almost got us killed!”

 “I was eliminating a threat.” Orion said.

 “That’s a load of scrap! You tried to kill him on the spot and screwed up, nearly causing us to fail the mission. You were lucky I was there or he would be mounting your head on his wall by now!”

 Orion glared at her. “How was I supposed to know he could do that?”

 “You don’t, you moron!” She shouted. “That’s why you can’t take chances with outliers. They’re unpredictable. How do you think I was able to kick your ass back in Iacon?”

 “You mean before I smacked you to the ground with my baton?” He huffed.

 Shadowkat threw a punch at his face, but Elita-1 stopped her with her powers. “We just complete a difficult mission, Kat. Can we please not spoil our victory by arguing like this?”

 Shadowkat grunted but backed down. When the feline was settled in her seat, Elita-1 turned to Orion. “And you. I know you want to kill them all for what they did to Tarn, but don’t act rashly at the expense of your allies. Please be careful in the future.”

 Orion nodded and gave a quiet apology and slumped in his seat, looking out the window. It was raining now, and the world was once again dark and foggy. To him, it was as if Cybertron herself was crying. Crying in pain, or for her people, he didn’t know. But Orion knew that it had been raining a lot lately. It made him feel worse about endangering himself and Shadowkat earlier, but at least he accomplished two things tonight; he got the info they needed and they killed a Functionist leader. It was his one step closer to killing Steelheart and ending this conflict before it could begin.

XXXXXX

 Kaon was a different city that Tarn. Whereas Tarn was more of an industrial city under a cloud of smog and fumes, Kaon was more militaristic. Something about the jagged, curved aesthetic of its architecture and the inherent “might makes right” attitude present in the general population made it feel like Kaon was a call back to the age of the barbarian warlords and marauders of the Badlands before civilization truly arose. This led to the common scene of a Kaonian looking down on the Tarnian “ash-eaters” that slaved away in the refineries and smelters.

 Whereas Megatron’s name was akin to that of a prophet in Tarn, in Kaon, actions were needed to back up his words. The burning of Tarn had decimated his Decepticon followers in the eastern Badlands, so Megatron decided to get to work on rebuilding his forces. When he was free, and still riding on the high of taking those pot shots at Senator Ixion, Megatron chose to enter Kaon’s gladiator circuit to rebuild his reputation. Nightshade wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to kill something, and what better way to vent out his frustrations on the fighters who never had a real challenge in their lives? But even in terms of Pit fighting, Kaon and Tarn were still different.

 For one, Kaon’s underground was control by the criminal syndicate, who repurposed the Pits into something more refined and organized. With the manufacturing, mining and factory castes being so under the general public’s radar and notice, regarded as something lower than a thought, it gave the criminal syndicate freedom to do their thing, profiting off the bets placed on gladiator matches. It’s left unsaid that they also took an active hand in the manipulation of the results of the circuit.

 Megatron chafed under their rule for quite some time. He didn’t escape the clutches of death, the senate and that psychopath Ember to end up under the heel of some mob boss with a chip on his shoulder. Things came to a head when they came to him one day offering a deal.

 ‘ _You’re the finest gladiator we’ve ever seen,’_ They said. _‘A real immortal. But the stands aren’t as full. They won’t be as long as everyone knows you’re going to win.’_

At that point, Megatron already knew what was coming. They’d say they needed someone else to win. Not every time. But once or twice. Starting the next time he went into the arena. It was one of those crucial moments in one’s life. The moment when you decide whether you were going to surrender control to someone else…or fight to the death to keep it.

 Guess what he chose.

There in that room, away from the prying eyes of the slum dogs and drug abusers, Megatron and Soundwave, who was the least threatening person in the room at that time, single handedly slaughtered the bosses and their strongarm bodyguards, all save one. Megatron sent him out to spread the word: the gladiator pits were under new management.

 Elmeth’s warning of taking control rang in his mind. Become a leader of your own volition, not by accident, lest you become a mere puppet to the eyes of the people. So this was what he was doing. Taking control. He failed his people in Tarn, and he was not going to make that same mistake in Kaon. He’ll rebuild this sorry society from the ground up, make it into an empire and from there he will show the world that the people of Cybertron will not be treated like slaves. He will bring Cybertron back to that glorious golden age…even if he had to burn it all to the ground to start from scratch.

XXXXXX

 “Agh!”

 Cy-kill choked as Megatron shoved his spear through his chest after the latter dodged his hammer strike. Megatron grinned and twisted the spear deeper into his chest.

 “And that’s game.” He said.

 Cy-kill gasped in pain and looked like he was about to die…then he gave a mocking laugh and kicked Megatron in the chest, knocking him down. “Psych!”

 He rushed at Megatron with the spear still sticking out of his chest and brought his hammer down on Megatron’s head. Megatron quickly rolled away to avoid getting his face smashed in. Cy-Kill grinned and pulled the spear from his chest. It helped to have his Spark core located on the left side of his chest instead of the center. Luring bots in close for an unexpected kill was a great way to get wins.

 “Dumb glitch,” he laughed. “Might as well give up. You’ve got no weapons.”

 Megatron snorted. “But I can always become one.”

 He charged at Cy-kill and transformed to his tank mode. His heavy form slammed hard into his opponent and he ran over Cy-kill’s body, digging his spiked treads into his chest. The treads started ripping the metal from his chest plate, sending bits of metal and sparks flying into Cy-kill’s face. His weight made it worse for the poor mech and Megatron didn’t stop until he had nearly worn away Cy-kill’s torso armor. Then he transformed and stood over the groaning warrior.

 The crow was going wild, hooting and hollering like animals, urging him to kill Cy-kill. But Megatron could only stare down at his broken body, flashes of his brutal massacre of Obliteration and the prison guards running across his mind. Cy-kill’s body looked like it had been dragged under a magna-train and his chest stank of putrid fumes and burnt rubber.

 “It’s not over,” The referee tossed Megatron an axe. “The match isn’t over until someone dies. So finish it.”

 “Yeah!”

 “Go for it!”

 “Kill them all!”

 So many cries for blood coming at him at once. Megatron had heard it all and raised the axe over his head. Soon the individual shouts merged into a single phrase that echoed in his mind.

 Till all are one!

 Till all are one!!

 Till all are one!!!

 TILL ALL ARE ONE!!!!

 WHAM!

Cy-kill’s head was smashed apart in a gory mess as the axe blade cut his brain in two. The audience roared and stomped their feet so loudly that you could hear the thumping from Vector Sigma itself. the referee took Megatron’s hand and held it up in the air to show his victory.

 “Here is out champion!” He cheered, his booming voice hyping up the crowd even more. “Our gladiator king, Megatron!”

 Megatron! Megatron! Megatron! MEGATRON! MEGATRON! MEGATRON!!!!!

 Megatron closed his eyes and took off his helmet, revealing the retracted fins on the sides and top of his cranium. He unfolded the extensions and leaned his head back to let the light shine on his face. He basked in their praise, reveled in the glory of a proper kill. Drew strength from their love for him. Him, Megatron of Tarn, who fought for freedom. Yes, he was Megatron, and this was his city.

 For the first time since watching Elmeth burn, he smiled. This was his home now, and he was here to stay. And it was time that the senate realized that fact.

XXXXXX

_“Circle formation!”_

_Tonight it was another popular variation of gladiator matches, team match-ups. Random bots shoved together on a team and forced to fight for their survival against beasts imported from off-world or against other teams, usually veterans. Megatron was on the same team as Soundwave’s Minicons, Rumble and Frenzy. The team’s designated leader, Korada, tried to get his team together but communication between members wasn’t going very well._

_“I said circle formation!” Korada yelled. “Bronzor, get-frag it!”_

_Bronzor, their team’s heavy hitter and tank, had is head melted into his torso by an acid spray from a femme on the other team. Since Bronzor was at the core of Korada’s plan, he knew everything went to slag as soon as his body hit the floor. Korada’s nerves were getting the better of him. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Not good odds in a battle royale._

_“Bronzor’s toast!” Rumble said. “Korada, what do we do?”_

_“I…I don’t know!” Korada stuttered. Then someone grabbed him from behind and shoved him in the past of an energo-sword that stabbed into his chest._

_“Thanks for the assist.” Megatron quipped as he pushed Koarad aside and jammed his spear into the head of the bot with the sword. “Congratulations, nameless warrior. You’ve just speared the mighty Korada. Here’s your reward!”_

_Megatron pulled his spear free and spun it around to hit the femme with the acid spray in the face. When she made to transform he snatched her acid gun and sprayed a jet of acid on her half-morphed form melting her from the inside out before she could even form her alt mode. He grinned, and felt a hand on his ankle. Looking down he saw that it was Korada, still clinging to life._

_“Korada, why don’t you take five?” Megatron skewered Korada’s head with his spear and kicked the body aside. “I can handle it from here.”_

_“Savage.” Frenzy grinned._

_“Hardcore!” Rumble agreed._

_Megatron picked up a sword and regrouped with his surviving teammates. “Now…circle formation!”_

_//Pause//_

“Descriptively, it’s his callousness towards victims encouraging aggressive attitudes and taking pleasure in pain. Legally, it’s either serious assault or murder depending on how it’s edited. They call it a sport.” Prowl tapped his pointer on Megatron’s frozen image. “And this would be where he promoted himself to team captain.”

 Prowl stood at the front of the giving the Elite Guard a thorough rundown of their latest target, the Decepticon faction leader, Megatron. Since killing Senator Ixion, he had become a high profile target in Kaon, taking over most of the city’s gladiator circuit. Because of this, the senate had pressured Sentinel into switching his focus from the Functionists to the Decepticons, intent on snuffing out this revolution at the source.

 Despite this, he left Prowl in charge of field operations for the time being. Thus, it was a chore trying to get these gun toting “elites” to follow his orders without any backtalk or snooty comebacks. He was trying to catch one of the planet’s most wanted bots and some of these mechs wouldn’t even keep their eyes open during a debriefing. And these were the Elite Guards? He got more respect from Chromedome, Primus bless his Spark.

 “So far, we’ve been able to secure at least sixteen volumes containing “Arena” video assets. All of them are illegal combat. Most of them have at least some material featuring this team. We can conclude these disks are netting someone a fortune.” Prowl continued. “Inexpensive to produce with approximately four hundred thousand of this volume alone in distribution, so-“

 One of bots in attendance, a flyer named Lightspeed, cut Prowl off with an annoyed groan. “Look, the response team just needs to know one thing. Where he is and when do we strike…”

 “Prime on deck!” Prowl exclaimed as the door slid open to reveal the large form of Sentinel Prime. Everyone stood up and gave him a sharp salute as he passed by them towards the podium. Sentinel nodded to Prowl and faced the assembled team.

 “Be seated.” Sentinel said. As soon as everyone was sitting down with their full attention on him, he got to work. “You all know how I work. And you know how serious it is that I’m here. I don’t play games. This is how it’s going to go down.”

 He scanned the faces of his team, bots he personally chose and trained to combat any threat to planetary security. “I will have eight tactical recon teams on permanent postings at probable future venues in Kaon. There will be a core strike team-hammer. It will respond when the net is triggered. They’re evasive, but they’re far from invisible. We wait for them to move en masse and when they trip out net, we go in and take them down. We have video across the city, bulk real time data processing thanks to our telecluster and security control is ready. Individual teams will disperse as designated. Call sign is Panorama. We will crack down on this false revolution,” Sentinel pointed a finger at Megatron’s face. “And that one will hang.”

XXXXXX

 A few days later the recon teams were assigned their postings. Bumper and Fastback were assigned to a small, rundown sector on the outskirts of Kaon, where the gladiators would most likely group up for the underground matches. That part of Kaon, known as Copper Town, was relatively uninhabited and half finished, with most buildings lacking proper framework and covering. Much of the area was pretty much untouched for decades. Bumper was less than pleased at getting stuck in the boonies while some of his drinking buddies were hanging out in the inner city.

 “Panorama 3 to monitor-what makes anyone think there’d be anyone other than rust going down in a dive like this?” Bumper asked.

 “Bumper is right, Prowl. Even pit fighters wouldn’t be slumming it out here in this mess.” Fastback grunted.

 “ _Panorama 3, you know the drill-mouths shut, eyes open. Maintain radio silence until an alpha target is spotted or field team is compromised. Over and out.”_

Bumper signed and got on his stomach, sitting under a support beam hanging over his head. “Eighteen days of this is enough to make even my vision glitch.”

 And so recon team Panorama 3 waited at their little hideout for their murderous quarry, like a pair of hunters searching for rabid turbofoxes. They took turns for lookout, while the other recharged or fueled up on energon. When they weren’t doing that, they were watching the Empties and circuit freaks wander the streets like ghosts. They made a little game out of who would drop dead on the spot or how long it would take until they shorted out.

 For seven days they remained on standby, slowing losing their minds from boredom, and were just seconds away from calling Prowl for a sit-rep when they got some company. A group of five green and purple construction vehicles rolled down the rusty streets and into a large courtyard behind the remains of a church. A quick glimpse into the database showed that these mechs were the Constructicons, a group of bots from Mytharc that defected following the introduction of the Clampdown. Bumper and Fastback watched in awe as they transformed to robot mode and started collecting pieces of scrap and debris around them.

 “Fastback, you getting this?” Bumper whispered into the radio. “No wonder we can’t track them between venues. They don’t ship the arena components to the venue, they build it on site!”

 One of the Constructicons, Mixmaster, went to his alt mode for his comrades to start loading the materials into his alt mode’s mixer. He increased its temperature and heated the metal to melting point, churning the materials together before pouring it into molds laid out for him. Scavenger and Long Haul dragged a half dead empty over to the molten pool and casually dumped the poor bot into the slag, unable to even scream in his state of mind. They didn’t even wait for him to melt completely before continuing their work.

 One could look at the Constructicons and would be hard pressed to say that they weren’t masters of their trade. They worked diligently for a few hours without rest. By sundown, they already got started on the framework of the building and setting up the circular stands around the arena. That was when their guest of honor arrived.

 Megatron himself appeared in tank mode, rolling through the open gap where they were setting up the front doors. He transformed to robot mode in a fluid motion without even breaking his stride. He looked brand new now, his smooth, stainless steel grey armor glinting in the half installed lights, with red and black patterns on his arms and his brow. Nightshade, who was reported to be by his side nearly every time he appeared in public, walked next to him, carefully surveying the area. Bumper shivered as her narrow eyes roamed over his hiding spot.

 “We’re a little early.” Nightshade pointed out. She was always one for arriving early for front row seats, but this was a bit much.

 “Megatron, Nigtshade.” Soundwave arrived through the side entrance with Rumble and Frenzy, transforming from his vehicle mode.

 “Where have you been Soundwave?” Megatron asked.

 “A few days ago we were contacted by an anonymous messenger requesting that he help us in our revolution.” Nightshade said. “I sent Soundwave to meet with them to ascertain if this person’s intentions were true. So Soundwave, how did it go?”

 “Before inquiry is made, this arena location was revealed in advance in direct relation to financial offerings.” Soundwave informed them.

 Megatron frowned. “Bribes? I see. The Kaonian arena was always a poorly kept secret, and this proves it. And these people talk smack about the Pits in Tarn.” He crossed his arms. “About this benefactor of yours. Who is he?”

 “Someone from the upper castes who supports our cause.” The spymaster answered. He was careful not to go into any specifics until they were in private. “He has recently made an offer to give us weapons, both modular and built-in implants.”

 “And the price for these gifts?” She asked.

 “Only that we use them as we see fit.”

 Bumper grinned. Megatron, Nightshade and Soundwave, all in one place with little protection. He quickly called his partner on their encrypted comm channel. “Fastback, you getting this? We just hit the jackpot! Fastback?”

 He tried calling his partner a few times but got no response back. A sinking feeling rose in his Spark as he looked over at Fastback’s position across the yard and saw that he was being assaulted by two bird shaped Minicons. Bumper cursed. “Bail, bail, we have to clear the site. This is op team Panorama 3 requesting response team on hostile encounter. I repeat, Panorama 3 calling for urgent response team, confirm.”

 He couldn’t wait for a reply as he stood up and gathered his equipment. He chanced a look into the building and jumped as he saw Megatron glaring up at him. “Scrap!”

 Bumper spun around to jump back onto the street, but he was caught by surprise as the black form of Ravage lunged at him and knocked him flat on his back with a swipe of his claws to his face.

XXXXXX

 “Get him back online. I want him to see this.”

 Bumper’s optics switched on and he almost closed them again when the bright light nearly blinded him. As his vision returned, he noticed that Rumble and Frenzy holding his arms still and Megatron standing above Fastback, who looked like he was beaten to hell and back. And Megatron didn’t look very happy either.

 “You awake? Good.” Megatron growled. “I want you to watch.”

 Megatron grabbed Fastback’s head and threw him to the ground. Fastback scrambled back on his hands trying to get away. “Wa-wait!”

 Megatron stomped hard on Fastback’s chasis, his large foot crushing the smaller bot like a trash compactor. Bumper watched in horror as his friend’s body was smashed to pieces, smoke and flames expelling from his exhaust ports. Soundwave looked at the corpse.

 “What is the purpose of terminating the prisoner?” Soundwave asked. It wasn’t asked out of anger, just curiosity.

 “Showing him what happens if he doesn’t tell me what I want to know!”

 “Cram it in your vent ya psychopath!” Bumper shouted.

 Megatron backhanded him against the face and sent Bumper bouncing across the floor nearly foot away before coming to a stop. Megatron went to finish him off, but Nightshade stopped him.

 “Hold your servos Megatron. We still need him alive for the time being.” She said.

 “For what?! That bastard could’ve called in a strike unit by now!” Megatron yelled.

 “Upon detection, subject’s communications were jammed. We are not in immediate danger.” Soundwave said. “Suggested course of action-employ a specialist.”

 Soundwave deployed Laserbeak, who flew onto Bumper’s chest. The avian Minicon shown a red light onto Bumper’s face, once again rousing the mech from his slumber. The beam also scrambled his brainwaves so that it would be easier for Soundwave to scan his thought impulses. The silent Con knelt down over Bumper and held his head still.

 “What is he doing?” Megatron asked.

 “Soundwave is an outlier. He has enhanced senses that allow him to detect sounds, sights and smells on a more intimate level than us. He can also sense a person’s electrical impulses within someone’s brain and process them.” Nightshade explained. “It’s very useful in dealing with people who won’t talk.”

 After a few seconds, Soundwave began to relay what he saw. “Subject’s mind indicates a broad net cast to snare arena fighters. They did not know you were coming here. Subject’s knowledge also indicates you are one of foremost members of a global “Most Wanted” list alongside Nightshade and myself.” He looked up at his partners. “Conclusion-subject is neither immediate threat nor useful tool.”

 “Then you’re finished?” Megatron said.

 Soundwave nodded. “Affirmative.”

 “Hmph,” Megatron grunted. “Scrapper, this site is compromised. Leave everything.”

 Scrapper sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He hated leaving a job unfinished, but them’s the break when you’re running an illegal business. “Roger that.”

 “Soundwave, tell our benefactor that I think we can do business-once I’ve met him.” Megatron said and glared down at Bumper. “And this one…he’s mine.”

 Soundwave and Laserbeak stepped back from Bumper as Megatron walked towards him. Bumper’s last images were his own reflection in the lens of Megatron’s red optics, and the grin the Decepticon leader gave him.

 “Now then…what did you call me?” Megatron stomped his foot down on Bumper’s legs, crushing them instantly. “A psychopath?”

 Needless to say, Bumper’s execution wasn’t a slow one.

XXXXXX

 Preceptor and the rest of the tech head in the SOC science department had worked tirelessly to properly analyze the data acquired. It was a treasure trove of information, none of it good and all of it dangerously foreboding.

 According to the data found, Fortuity had been secretly shipping supplies and weapons to an isolated Functionist base in the Lemuria region near Kalis. It was a base developed in secret under the cover of an expansion project to give people homes after the Cog crashed into the city, but for far, only Enforcers had access to the area. But aside from that, it was also a munitions plant that developed most of the weapons for the Functionist Council’s military. The position of the facility alone provided them a strategic staging point to launch an attack anywhere on the planet.

 But the worst part about this was that the data described plans for the production and deployment of k-bombs, weapons of mass destruction that could crack the planet in half if enough are detonated at the same time, and biological weapons, namely those based on studies of the Rust Plague. This news was deeply unsettling for everyone.

 “Dear Primus,” Elita-1 whispered in horror as she and the other Autobots were debriefed on this. “Those maniacs are willing to unleash a rust infection on the populace? Don’t they know what damage that can do to the planet’s environment? Or how much damage it could do to Vector Sigma?”

 “They’re probably last resort weapons, but the fact that they’re making them in the first place is unsettling.” Zeta pointed at the monitor behind her. “Apparently they’ve been stocking WMDs since Nominus Prime’s assassination. Our esteemed outliers were gearing up for war before the Clampdown was even a thought.”

 “Where are they storing them?” Roller asked.

 “In a munitions plant in the Lemuria region. The base is connected to the rest of Kalis, created after the Cog crashed into the city as a rapid response base. They probably made the plant so close to a civilian population center to deter the senate from taking military action in fear of killing a lot of people.” Zeta explained. “I don’t need to remind you just how dangerous this mission could be. Those K-bombs could cause massive amounts of damage from detonation alone, and those rust agents…we can’t let them be deployed onto the field. Your mission is simple: find the plant and torch it before those megalomaniacs get the change to kill more innocent people.”

 They mobilized at once without hesitation. It was a strike team consisting of Orion, Elita-1, Glitch and Shadowkat. Stealth was key, as they were outnumbered on all sides in enemy territory. This was a hit and run mission; their job was simple, find the munitions, torch them, and leave the area at once. They were going to be hitting the Functionists directly this time, and if everything went well, Steelheart would be on the war path.

 Orion and Elita-1 were taking a dropship towards the southern end of Kalis, while Shadowkat and Glitch took and entry point from the north, under the cover of the city’s electromagnetic disturbance to mask their approach. Neither of them said anything as the ship flew over the steel landscape, soon following the deep trench made by the Cog as it crashed to the ground, which was still sitting in Kalis’ city square.  Their target was in the general area, which was closed off to the public. The Functionists were essentially using the Cog as the heart of their territory to throw potential infiltrators off.

 Elita-1 was holding Orion’s hand, tapping her index finger on the back of his hand as she looked out the window. Orion noticed her worry and squeezed her hand.

 “You’re going to overheat if you keep stressing yourself out.” He said.

 Elita-1 sighed. “How can I not be worried, Orion? I just learned that a group of religious fanatics are developing biological weapons and were planning to drop said weapons on some poor city.”

 “That’s why we’re doing this. To make sure that what happened in Tarn won’t happen again.” Orion took a deep breath. “Nothing will be the same after this. We work quickly and quietly, and by the time they realize what happened, they we’ll be long gone. Just stay close to me. I’ll keep you safe.”

 Elita-1 smirked. “Well, I can’t let you take up slack for the both of us. I’m just going to have to keep you safe from the bad guys.”

 “I wouldn’t think any less of you for trying.” He replied.

 Their little moment was cut short when their dropship was hit by a quick flash of light and started to violently jerk and shake in the air. Orion and Elita-1 were nearly thrown from their seats, and she noticed that they were stuck in a death spiral.

 “We’re falling!” She yelled.

 “What’s going on?” Orion asked.

 “EMP!” The pilot said. “We’re going down fast and everything’s dead. You two need to bail out!”

 “Scrap!” Orion grabbed Elita-1’s hand and slid open the entry hatch. “Jump!”

  They jumped out of the falling dropship and descended into the empty streets of factory district of Kalis. They were in the middle of enemy territory now, and at the mercy of a small army.

XXXXXX

 Orion and Elita-1 barely made it out of the failing dropship as it crashed into the ground just a mile away from them. They landed on the roof of a nearby building and made their way to the ground just as Enforcer convoys started rolling in on their position by now.

 “Slag,” Orion muttered. He didn’t think they had anti-air defenses like that. The Functionists must be really careful if they’re willing to shoot down any mysterious object. “We need to meet up with Kat and Glitch. They’re probably at the RV site by now.”

 They transformed to alt form and discreetly drove through the empty streets, which were quickly being filled by enemy patrols heading towards the crash site. The two Autobots stayed to the shadows, switching modes to decrease travel time. When they reached the borders of the operation zone, they almost ran into a trio of large, white humanoid drones with arm-mounted particle cannons and cold, dead faces that scanned the area in front of them.

 ‘Overcharge drones?’ Orion thought. Elita-1 swallowed a yelp as one of the massive mechs stomped past their hiding place in the alleyway. ‘I thought the CDF decommissioned those things!’

 Overcharge drones were military combat drones built for urban combat. They were supposed to replace the large, overbearing Omega Sentinels that protected the 13 city-states for civil defense, and with their huge loadout they certainly lived up to their duty. But they also lived up to their names, using more energon than their employers could provide. In an era where energon was in short supply, this made the Overcharge drones a bit of a failed success.

 ‘The Functionists probably have dozens of these things in storage for their own personal use. It’s just like them to use secret weapons behind everyone’s backs.’ He grimaced. He motioned Elita-1 to follow him and crept through the shadows away from the overpowered machines.

 It took them almost 20 minutes to reach the rendezvous point, which was near the plant they were targeting. The factory making the weapons was basically a repurposed munitions plant that used to make equipment for the state militia. Shadowkat and Glitch were already standing on the ledge overlooking the facility.

 “Kat, we’re here.” Orion said.

 “’Bout fragging time.” Shadowkat grumbled. “I thought you guys were slagged.”

 “We almost were. They have overcharge drones roaming the streets and we had to drop a few of their guys along the way.” Elita-1 explained. “It’s going to be a riot when they find the bodies.”

 “Then the mission’s compromised. They already know we’re here.” Glitch sighed. They didn’t even get inside the building and things were already going to hell.

 “It doesn’t matter. We finish the mission no matter what.” Orion told them, with a tone that garnered no arguments. Shadowkat didn’t get that memo.

 “Pax, the mission was over before it began. We’ve lost the element of surprise.” She said. “We should jump ship and come back another day.”

 “There won’t be another day!” He growled. “We do this here and now. Feel free to run if you want, but I’m not leaving this to chance.”

 They stared hard at each other for a few seconds, neither backing down. Then Shadowkat begrudgingly relented and stepped back. “If this goes south, it’s on you, Pax.”

 “It’s always on me.”

 Orion and Glitch attached their lines and slid down the rope, with Elita-1 and Shadowkat following behind.

 “He’s a tough bastard, I’ll give him that.” Shadowkat grumbled. Elita-1 smiled and followed her friend down.

 The team lowered themselves to the ground and made their way to one of the side entrances where two guards were posted. On signal, Elita-1 and Shadowkat took out the guards with headshots (Elita-1 had been taking shooting lessons from Shadowkat) and they ran towards the door. Glitch shorted out the locking mechanism on the door and as soon as it slid open, Orion tossed in an EMP grenade at the bots inside. Once they were stunned, Shadowkat mowed them down with quick kill shots, allowing them entry into the room.

 Once inside, they initiated phase 2 of the plan: Elita-1 and Shadowkat would head towards the server room and acquire the saved data files from the main computer. Orion and Glitch would hunt down the Rust bombs and destroy the cache they have stored there. They split up in two directions at the fork in the hallway and ran towards their respective targets.

 The femmes got to their destination with relative ease. No alarms had been tripped yet, so they had no opposition as they made it to the server room. Once inside, Shadowkat got to work on downloading as much information as possible from the storage tanks.

“Rip this place apart, Elita. Get your hands on anything you can see. Drives, disks, data tracks.” She waited for the data slug to be at full capacity before pulling it out and smashing the terminal with her gun. “With all this, we could have enough evidence to bury the Functionists and possibly the senate for life.”

 Elita-1 was also done on her end and planted a phase charge on the monitors. They cleared the room and detonated the shape charge, destroying most of the servers in the explosion. Then the alarms started ringing and the sound of footsteps could be heard heading towards them.

 “And here comes the noise.” Shadowkat grinned, drawing her neutron rifle.

 At the other end of the plant, Orion and Glitch followed the directory towards the room where the crates of biological agents were being stored. Glitch shorted out the cameras to mask their approach, but they still ran into some Enforcer guards. Orion took care of them swiftly with a combination of his plasma rifle and his battle axe. Glitch wondered where Pax learned how to wield such a long axe with such grace. It certainly wasn’t from the police academy.

 “Here it is.” Glitch said as they entered the air tight room near the main production line where the projectile weapons were being made. There were nearly three dozen crates sporting the biohazard symbol-a decaying cybertronian skull. Glitch ran his scanner over one of the crates and nodded. “This is it. The rust agents. This stuff is highly condensed as well, probably so they can fit them into warheads.”

 “Well then, let’s take out their little investment shall we?” Orion took out a few phase charges and planted them on five crates. That was enough explosives to take out the entire room and the surrounding factory as well. Once they were planted, Orion heard the soldiers running through the halls, shouting and shooting. “Looks like they found the girls.”

 There was an explosion and the doors were blown in, revealing Shadowkat and Elita-1, covered in dust and oil. Orion set the timer and followed Glitch out the doors. The team ran towards the rear of the base where the hanger bay was located. Glitch opened the mode-locked doors, but yelped as he almost ran into an Overcharge drone standing right behind the door. Shadowkat phased through his body and unloaded an entire clip into the drone’s face, not stopping until it fell to the ground with a smoldering heap above its shoulders.

 ”Could you at least try to be vigilant?” Shadowkat huffed. “This is some orchestral ballet you moron. You’re embarrassing to look at in a firefight.”

 “Well excuse me, queen rage. I didn’t mean to insult your honor!” Glitch sneered.

 “Not now, people!” Elita-1 said.

 “Frag out!” Orion shouted and all four of them tossed their frag grenades out into the bay. The gathering Enforcers were blown to pieces by the four grenades, and that was when the Autobots rushed for the hangar doors under the cover of smoke. Laser bolts flew over their heads and they fired back at their attackers as they made their way to freedom. Shadowkat had all four of them grab hold of each other and slipped through the door like ghosts, jumping out into the cold night air.

 “We’re free!” Glitch laughed, letting out a shaky breath. He thought they weren’t going to make it there!

 “Pax to Zeta, we’ve destroyed the weapons and the plant is set to explode soon. We need an immediate exfil!”

 “ _I hear you Pax, but the primary LZ is too hot right now. There’s a secondary LZ just a few kliks from your position. Get their as fast as you can!”_

_“_ Roger that.” Orion turned to his team. “We’ve our ride incoming, but we need to get to the landing point before the Enforcers converge on our loca-“

 The hangar doors exploded behind them as a shockwave rippled through the ground. The Autobots were thrown off their feet as the ground was broken into large slabs of metal and rock that jutted up from the ground. The entire facility started to shake like an earthquake and it was hard for them to regain their footing.

 “For Primus’ sake, what now?” Shadowkat groaned.

 Orion and Glitch, who were the closest to the hangar turned back to see a large figure walking through the smoke with a squad of Enforcers following them. It was a femme, dirty brown with a hard, bulky frame with wheels on the back of her shoulders and forelegs. Her face plate was a smooth mirror that hid the enraged expression that could practically be heard in her growling voice.

 “A group of Autobots trying to sabotage my base. That’s a dumb move on your part, Orion Pax.” Faultline said, clenching her large fists. They started to emit a low hum as they started vibrating wildly.

 Glitch raised his gun, but Orion pushed it down and pulled him along. “We don’t have time. Just run!”

 “No you don’t!” Faultline jumped into the air and came down on them like a meteor. Orion and Glitch jumped apart as she slammed her fists on the ground, sending a powerful wave rippling throughout the already ravaged ground.

 Orion landed on his back, but flipped away when Faultline came charging at him like a mad Dibison. He ducked and jumped over her punches and swung his axe at her head. She blocked the axe blade with her armored forearms and kicked him in the chest, knocking him a foot into the air before hitting a boulder head first. He snatched up his axe and held it defensively as she stalked towards him.

 “Steelheart will be pleased to have your head, Pax.” Faultline chuckled. “She may not have Megatron, but you’ll be a great substitute.”

 Orion spat at her feet. “Go to hell.”

 Faultline slammed her fists together and rushed at him, but Glitch jumped onto her back and started firing EMP rounds into the back of her head. She fell to her knees as her audio and visual sensors started going dark, making her blind and deaf. With her disoriented, Glitch grabbed Orion’s arm and pulled him along. Faultline growled a curse and forced her systems to reboot.

 “I’ll…kill…you…!”

 But things went from bad to worse with her as the munitions plant suddenly exploded in a tower of flames. The explosion could be heard from miles, and the blast wave sent Faultline flying into an upturned piece of rock, shattering it with her bulk. She hit the ground and formed a crater from her impact, then sat up and watched the bright flames rise into the air along with nearly millions of shnix worth of weapons they spent a year stockpiling.

 “Oh slag,” Faultline groaned. “I’m in so much trouble.”

 Orion and Glitch drove as fast as they could towards the LZ point where they ride out was sitting. They could see the dropship ready to take off, along with their two friends. The aircraft was already hovering off the ground when they reached the top of the hill.

 “Pax, Glitch, hurry up!” Shadowkat yelled.

 “Just a little more, Glitch, hang in there!” Orion urged his friend.

 They were only a mile away from their escort when Faultline appeared behind them, having shifted into her alt mode-an all terrain monster truck-to catch up to them. Increasing her speed, she jumped forward and slammed her fists into the ground, breaking apart the smooth road beneath them. These tremors followed the two Autobots as they reached the top of the hill. Orion was fast enough to jump off the cliff onto the docking bay of the ship, but Glitch wasn’t so lucky.

 “NO!!!” Orion watched horrified as Glitch’s tank mode flew into the air in the opposite direction. Faultline jumped at him, caught him in the air, and slammed Glitch into the ground. Orion tried to jump back out, but Shadowkat held him back. “Let me go! We have to save him!”

 “We can’t Pax, we’re out of time. We’ve got enemies heading our way!” She said.

 Faultline lifted a boulder and threw it at the ship. Elita-1 tore the giant slab of metallic ore apart with her powers and yelled at the pilot to take them out. Orion continued to struggle, but the girls held him inside.

 “We can’t leave him! They’ll kill Glitch!” He shouted.

 Shadowkat gave him a sad look before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Pax. He’s lost to us now.”

 He cursed and watched as Glitch and Faultine grew smaller as they flew away from Kalis, vowing to find his friend and bring him back home. “I’m sorry, Glitch.”

XXXXXX

 Faultline sighed as she saw the transport fly away. She thought, or rather hoped, that they would stay and try to save their friend, long enough to allow Enforcer air forces to reach them, but they were apparently smarter than that. Looking at the still burning wreckage of their production facility, she shook her head.

 “Steelheart’s gonna crucify me.” She muttered. Not only did she let an enemy ship go free, but their secret weapon against the senate was now ash and dust. A failure on her part, and Steelheart did not accept failure among their kind.

 “Still, at least I have you.” Faultline glanced down at Glitch’s half buried form. “Steelheart’s gonna make you wish you had undergone shaowplay instead, you little freak.”

 


	13. No More Words

Chapter 13-No More Words

 Steelheart had no face, so she had no visible way to convey her emotions. It was an aesthetic choice to replay her head in a process that would later give birth to the Empurata ritual; something she invented back when the Functionists were first formed. As one of Primus’s chosen, she and the rest of her kin did not need faces to show their devotion to their world. Their faces were a mirror that reflected Cybertron’s beauty, and thus they channeled that divinity into themselves as the power that each member of the council wielded. It was their goal as outliers, the most superior of Cybertron’s races, to be the true face of this beautiful machine called Cybertron; the very Spark of the planet. If they died, then Cybertron would fall with them.

 Which was why Steelheart was so livid at the number of failures that keep piling on top of one another. They get framed by Sentinel, branded enemies of the planet, have Megatron murder one of their own in full view of the public, have another councilmen get killed by Orion Pax of all people, and then have their major source of munitions get destroyed by that same mech. It was getting ridiculous at this point. K-bombs, fission charges, the rust disease they were weaponizing, all of it gone in two seconds flat in a ball of flames and nothing to show for it. Something had to be done.

 This is why Steelheart had called an emergency session among the Council in the Cog, which still acted as their temporary base of operations until the Enforcers were done constructing their secondary base. They were all in attendance, the remaining Functionist members; Steelheart, Nightwielder, Conflux, Limelight, Faultline, Refractionary, Repulsor, Deathpoint and Regalia. The current topic of discussion was, of course, what they were going to do about their insult to their honor.

 “I’m going to be frank with you all,” Steelheart said slowly. “I’m very, very disappointed in you all. Here we are, the gods of this world enforcing the word of Primus, and all it takes is one bad night in Tarn to turn it all around on us. We are outliers, the chosen ones of Primus. So can someone please explain to me how do we keep getting our teeth kicked in by a handful of terrorists?!”

 Deathpoint, a tall and thin dark brown mech who transformed into a high caliber sniper rifle, gave a little huff and set his elbows on the table. “It’s not like we’re all knowing, Steelheart. Sentinel’s slowly been tightening the net around our operations on a global scale. He’s been leading commando raids on our bases, and there are a few Decepticon cells as well that have been attacking our supply depots. Sentinel’s attention was been diverted to apprehending the Decepticons, mostly Megatron, but these…Autobots are no amateurs. They know what they’re doing.”

 “Don’t give me excuses!” Steelheart shouted, slamming her hands on the table and denting the metal. “We are being made to look like fools by people we could kill with our bare hands. All of this is a disgrace to everything we’ve built since the Golden Age!”

 “Stop whining like a hungry protoform, Steelheart.” Said Regalia. She was an old femme with faded indigo blue armor who transformed into a high-speed submarine. “Instead of throwing a temper tantrum, how about you use that energy to help us think of a solution?”

 “Like taking out that little upstart, Orion Pax?” Repulsor, a dark emerald green femme with an ATV alt mode, suggested.

 Steelheart was quiet for a few minutes before glancing at Limelight. “How are things with our prisoner?”

 “We’re putting him through our most devastating interrogation techniques,” The maroon mech said. The coils on his shoulders glowed every time he moved. “But he’s not talking. Even our mnemosurgeons aren’t getting much from him. His mental defenses are surprisingly strong.”

 “Does he have mental protection? Implants maybe?” Asked Faultline.

 “”No, just an undying hatred of us. Apparently he’s the former lover of the Black Death herself, Nightshade, though they haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

 “I don’t care about any of that!” Steelheart said. “Find out what he knows even if you have to rip him apart and dissect his brain module! I want to know everything about his life within the next week!”

 “Yes ma’am.” Limelight nodded.

 Deathpoint saw Conflux sitting quietly, having not said a word since the meeting started. “Don’t you have anything to add Conflux?”

 Conflux shook his head. “No. you guys have everything covered. I’m just here for the ride.”

 Steelheart gave him a look before facing the rest of her cabal. “Brothers and sisters, we are under targeted attack. Not by the senate or their false Prime, but by another group. One that Orion Pax is clearly a part of. Stay on your guard, and kill anyone who hasn’t sworn total allegiance to you. Today the world is our enemy. But tomorrow, it will be ours.”

 They all stood as one and bowed their heads. “All is one.”

XXXXXX

 The Kilgax munitions plant near Styx was a very important location, for it provided munitions for the most of the Badlands, save Vos and Styx. It was a large factory that was built into the side of a valley so that no one could find it without looking very hard. As such, even at a long distance, it looked like a jagged rock formation, easily blending in with its surroundings-or it would have were it not for the plumes of smoke beings funneled out of the top. It was easily noticeable on a clear day from afar.

 But today wasn’t a clear day. A storm had hit the area without warning and gallons of rain water started pouring from dark gray rain clouds that weren’t even that different from the smog the factory emitted on a daily basis. This was extremely unfortunate for the patrols guarding the facility from terrorist attacks, mainly the Decepticons.

 “Of course it fragging rains,” Galda grumbled, shivering slightly as the cold rain water leaked into her armor panels. “All this moisture is gonna make me rust.”

 “Put a can in it, Gal. if the weather bothered you so much, then you should’ve requested redeployment.” Her captain, Linkage, replied. He was dutifully scanning the surrounding area with his night vision optics, a recently developed optical implant that made operating at night and in the rain easier for some bots who could afford it.

 Galda snorted, hefting her photon rifle over her large blue shoulder. “Where would they send me? Ky-Alexia? They’re sending everyone and their protoforms to the Badlands because a few protesters got riled up. Granted the senator shouldn’t have killed that mech. Dumb scrapheap.”

 “Gal, could you not do this today? We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and thirsty, and desperately wanting to be anywhere but here.” Linkage sighed. “So please don’t add to the torture.”

 “Yes sir!” Galda gave him a mockingly sharp salute with a smirk.

 Linkage shook his head and scanned the area one more time before calling the other teams. “This is Linkage reporting no activity. How are things on your end, guys?”

 “ _Squad 1, no activity.”_

_“Squad 2, nothing here.”_

_“Squad 3, nothing so fa-agh!”_

The pained scream put Linkage on alert, and not a second later more shouts and gunfire were heard over the comm-channel. “Squad 3, what’s your status? Come in Squad 3. Squads 1 and 2 can you hear me? Slag! Galda, you’re with me. We might be under atta-“

 His sentence was cut short as half of his head was blown off by a photon blast from Galda from behind. She pushed his body over the edge and watched it fall into the valley below. Then she called it in.

 “The area’s clear. You can come up now.”

 From the cliff on the other side of the valley, a black dropship flew over the gorge and landed on the observation deck of the plant. Galda smiled as she saw her personal hero, Nightshade and her partner Soundwave exit the craft and approach her. Nightshade gave Galda an approving nod as thanks.

 “Is that everyone?” She asked.

 “Yes, my teammates took out the other squads at the same time, and no one has sent a distress signal.” Galda informed her. “And I’ve set up a local jamming field that blocks senate and Elite Guard broadcasts from reaching the outside. This entire plant is yours, Nightshade.”

 “Good work, Galda. I won’t take too long here. I just need to speak to the workers.”

 Nightshade and Galda entered the plant, and the former led her idol through the cold, dingy halls into the refinery where the raw materials that were mined were processed and refined into building materials used to make the weapons. It was hot, noisy and sweaty. The workers themselves were large bots regulated to the production lines or heavy lifting because their alt modes were perfect for transporting goods. But all the cacophony stopped the moment Nightshade entered the scene. Galda had to smile at their dumbstruck expressions. You’d think they’d saw a mythical creature or something.

 Nightshade smiled as well, having a similar thought along those lines. “I’m sure you all know who I am by now, so we can skip the introductions. As of two minutes ago, this munitions plant is now under Decepticon control. Every sword, gun spear and bomb you make belongs to the Decepticons, and will be used to set bots like you free from the senate’s oppression. Now this can go two ways; either you accept the change in management and continue producing weapons for people who actually deserve it or you could just back out. If you want to join our cause, then welcome aboard. If not, I won’t force you. But know that if any of your breath a word of this, I’ll kill you where you stand. So…are you people in or out?”

 The workers glanced at each other for a moment before going right back to work without a word, though there was a noticeable increase in their speed. Nightshade smirked at Galda.

 “I think they’re all on board.”

XXXXXX

 “ _Do you have eyes on the target?”_ Shadowkat asked over the comm.

 “Not yet. We’re still looking for his profile in the crowd.” Elita-1 whispered. She looked across the table at Orion and sighed. “Orion, could you please relax a bit? We’re trying to be incognito, remember?”

 “Sorry.” He muttered, fingering his empty glass. He looked out over the balcony at the crowd down below. Everyday bots going about their everyday lives as if there wasn’t a shadow war going on outside the city right now. He couldn’t help but marvel at how at ease these people looked. “Looking at these people now, you’d think that they’d never heard of the civil conflict going on right now.”

 “That’s how things are. People don’t really care about the Decepticons or the functionists or the senate unless it directly affects them.” Elita-1 said, sipping her vistriol cocktail. “We were no different once.”

 “And that was a long time ago.” He replied.

 “ _Keep your heads in the game, people. We’re on the clock here.”_ Roller said.

 ‘How can I forget?’ Orion thought with another sigh. “Hunting these monsters is all I think about these days.’

 His Autobots were once again on a mission of great importance; another assassination mission. Thanks to an anonymous tip, they were hunting down the Functionist Councilman Limelight. According to the info, he was traveling to the city of Ky-Alexia to meet with one of his secret weapons suppliers to make a deal to replenish the Enforcers munitions stocks. It was the typical black market dealing that Orion dealt with back in Rodion. The Functionist were being backed into a corner and were desperate now.

 Orion’s face morphed into a grimace as he remembered that night three weeks ago. Those monsters had Glitch, and Primus knows what kind of torture they were dealing to him. If they weren’t torturing him for information, they were just slowly killing him for being a “race traitor” as they dubbed outliers who didn’t join their cause. Orion had practically begged Zeta on his knees to authorize a rescue mission, but there was nothing they could do at that point. Knowing that the musician was suffering in Steelheart’s claws put a lot of doubt in Orion’s mind.

 Glitch was the first casualty, but who will be next? Roller, Chromedome, or even Elita-1? All these outcomes and fears that played on his mind after making a single mistake (to him). This was why he never joined the military. Too much responsibility on his shoulders.

 “I see him.” Elita-1 said. She subtly pointed at a fancy looking mech who looked like he just got out of a 24 hour waxing followed by a dry clean polish that made his glossy purple frame so smooth and flawless that just him walking in the sunlight made him light up like Nominus Square on Unification Day. The two large, burly black and orange mechs trailing after him were definitely bodyguards.

 “Driveshaft,” Orion muttered. “He’s a weapons dealer? But I thought he was just some big shot accountant in the financial caste.”

 “ _Well he has a side-job that deals with supplying illegal prototype weapons to the Functionists on rare occasions, like this one.”_ Chromedome explained. “ _It was something that Prowl and I were looking into once, but he gave up when we couldn’t dig up any dirt on him.”_

“Apparently he likes hanging out in Harmonex and fooling around in high profile casinos.” Elita-1 said. “A fancy mech attracted to fancy places.”

 “ _Tail him. He might lead you to Limelight.”_ Shadowkat said.

 Orion and Elita-1 were already on the move, signaling Windcharger and Skids to follow after them as backup in case things get hot. The duo trailed Driveshaft and his security detail through the bustling streets and into a side street that branched off into an alleyway behind the buildings. They followed him into a courtyard and saw him walk past a two more guards.

 “This guy’s packing a lot of muscle.” Windcharger said.

 “He’s making illegal deals with a now registered enemy of the planet. He’s got to make sure no one comes sniffing around.” Skids whispered.

 “Cut the chatter you two.” Orion hissed and nodded to his partner. “Elita, take them out.”

 Elita-1 grabbed a few pebbles and levitated them into the air above her palm. Mentally targeting the guards, she flicked her fingers and the rocks flew at their heads like bullets, piercing their foreheads at once and dropping them almost simultaneously. Orion grinned at her before leading the group past the downed bots and up a flight of stairs into a hollowed out building. As they neared he apartment Driveshaft entered, they heard him speaking with someone.

 “Limelight,” Orion growled. He looked at his team and counted down on his fingers. On zero, he kicked down the door and rushed in, pointing his gun at the occupants. “Freeze! Driveshaft, you’re under arrest for…huh?”

 Driveshaft was the only one in the room, alone with no one else having been with him. He gave the Autobots a smile as he held his hands up.

 “Good to see that you’re as gullible as some say you are, Pax.” Driveshaft said in a feminine voice that did not match his appearance. “I would’ve been very upset if I went through this trouble for nothing.”

 “Oh slag, here comes the reveal.” Skids groaned.

 The air around Driveshaft shimmered like a mirage before his appearance morphed into someone else entirely. A femme with snow white armor and a dark blue mirror face plate that reflected the stunned expressions of the Autobots. There were wings on her back and fins on her arms and legs that hinted at an aerial alt mode, and blue power lines ran up her torso to her limbs.

 “A trap.” Orion said.

 “Yes,” Refractionary nodded smugly. “A trap.”

  An orb of light popped into existence behind Orion, and Elita-1 acted instinctively, summoning a TK shield behind his back to deflect the light bomb that suddenly exploded. The force of the detonation blew out the windows and sent Orion flying through a sheet of glass before hitting the ground below, causing people to scatter.

 “ _Pax, you alright?”_ Roller shouted.

 “I’m fine, stop yelling.” Orion groaned, wincing as he stood up. Two more beams of light shot out of the windows, and another blew a hole in the roof as Elita-1 and Windcharger jumped out and landed on the street, albeit having a softer landing than him.

 “That glitch is insane! She almost brought the roof down on us!” Windcharger exclaimed.

 Refractionary shot out of the building like a bullet, a trail of multicolored light in her wakeas she hit the ground hard. She rushed forward at Windcharger, forming two blades of light energy around her hands and tried to stab him. He cursed and jumped back, using his magnetic powers to tear up pieces of the street to block her attacks. Refractionary’s photon blades cut through the metal sheets like paper and slashed at his face, only to have them bounce off Elita-1’s force shield. Elita-1 telekinetically grabbed hold of the outlier’s arms and yanked her away from Windcharger, but Refractionary fired a strong beam that almost took her head off had she not ducked under it.

 Orion took out his blaster and pointed it at Refractionary, only to have it explode in his hand, taking his index finger along with it. “Ah!”

 Elita-1 heard his pained cry and forced him down just a bullet streaked past the top of his head. Another bullet impacted the shield she brought up as she pulled him into an alleyway.

 “Kat we’ve got a sniper!” She called out.

 “And an outlier!” Windcharger added before tearing up more parts of the street to block the photon beams being fired at him. One beam singed the top of his left shoulder and he cursed. “Help us!”

XXXXXX

 Chromedome’s headmaster stood atop Roller’s shoulder with a pair of binoculars watching the path the bullets came from. He waited for another gunshot before following the flight path of the fifth bullet. “There! It’s coming from the clocktower!”

 “Then let’s move people!” Roller helped Chromedome over to his transector and transformed to his truck mode. He lead the way through the back streets with Chromedome and Shadowkat following him.

 When they turned onto the main street, they were already being targeted by their sniper, killing three people to get a hit on one of the Autobots. The bullets were being fired with astounding accuracy, and Roller and Chromedome were forced to do strafing maneuvers to avoid getting their tyres blown out. Shaodwkat just had to go intangible, but she had to use that power sparingly. It was a little known fact about outliers that overexertion weakened their powers greatly. Shadowkat could use her intangibility more than most outliers, but it never hurt to be safe.

 They group raced towards the clocktower near the heart of the downtown area, but they were forced to go on foot for the rest of the way.

 “Move! Get cover!” Roller shouted to the civilians. Chromedome felt his danger sense go off and looked up to see a green blur heading straight for them.

 “Incoming!”

 The blur crashed into the ground beside Roller, who only had enough time to see a humanoid figure running at him, before a pair of feet planted themselves in his chest and kicked him with a surprising amount of force. He coughed up some energon before the full force of the kick sent him crashing through a wall of a store, and almost smashing through the back wall as well.

 “Roller’s down!” Shadowkat shouted. She drew her blaster on his attacker, another Functionist member.

 “You should be more worried about yourself, race traitor!” Repulsor growled. Her emerald form glistened in the sunlight as she pushed off the ground and shot at the two Autobots like a bullet.

 Shadowkat and Chromedome opened fire on her, but their laser bolts bounced off her body as she flew straight towards the former. Shadowkat allowed Repulsor to shoot through her body, but she wasn’t expecting the femme to fire some device at her. As soon as it was near her, the round device generated an electrical field that shocked Shadowkat violently, bringing her to her knees.

 “Kat!” Chromedome ran to her side. “What happened?”

 “I don’t know,” She shuddered, her body wracked by violent spasms. “I feel…weak.”

 Her ears perked up and she pushed Chromedome away as a bullet shot past his head and tore apart her right shoulder. The force of the bullet caused her to stumble back and fall off her feet, her mind still processing the pain she felt. She willed herself to go intangible, but her powers weren’t responding.

 “How…?” She winced.

“Surprised?” Repulsor asked with a chuckle. “We aren’t stupid enough to forget about your power, kitty cat. Nor are we dumb enough to induct outliers without developing ways to disable them. That little suppressor was designed to deactivate that section of your brain that handles your powers, cuts off the flow of power from your Spark that allows you to use them. It only works for a few minutes, but that’s more than enough to take annoying little oil holes like you down.”

 Chromedome threw a punch at her head, but Repulsor met his fist with her own. Somehow, the force of his punch was used against him and the headmaster flew back, repelled by some invisible force rippling through his arm. Shadowkat went into beast mode and lunged at her, but Repulsor grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the ground, stomping on her chest to hold her down.

 “Don’t even try it. You can’t hit me without the force of your blows being used against you.” Repulsor laughed. “It’s a useful power against lunkheads who rely on their fists.” A silver blade extended from her forearm. “Now be a dear and die for me, will you?”

 She leaned down to jam the blade into Shadowkat’s Spark when something unexpected happened. There was a glint of light on something metallic sailing through the air before burying itself into the side of Repulsor’s skull, exiting out the other side of her cranium in a burst of mech fluid and metal fragments. Repulsor fell to the ground dead, much to the shock of the Autobots.

 “What just happened?” Chromedome asked in shock. He saw Roller limped towards them clutching his dented chest plate. “Roller, was that you?”

 “Nope, I was trying not to cough up my fuel pump.” Roller grunted. “I think that came from our resident sniper.”

 “First the guy’s trying to kill us and now he’s helping us?” Shadowkat shook her head as she was helped to her feet. “What’s going on here?”

 Roller sighed and picked up his rifle. “Don’t ask me. I’m just the muscle of the group.”

XXXXXX

 “Repulsor, pick up. Your signal just went dead. Can you hear me?” Refractionary yelled, ducking under a swipe from Orion’s axe and firing a beam that was deflected by Elita-1. Windcharger came at her from behind, but she kicked him in the chin and jumped back. “Damn it all, Deathpoint, I’ve lost contact with Repulsor. I think they got her.”

_“Well that’d be a damn shame if I actually cared about the guy.”_

 Refractionary froze. That wasn’t Deathpoint’s voice. “Conflux?” She grunted as the ground under her was broken apart and five rocks hit her in the face.

 “Not so hot without a sniper doing your battles for you, huh?” Elita-1 taunted.

 “Silence!” Refractionary summoned five orbs around her and had them fire upon the three Autobots. The orbs kept the Autobots at bay, but a high caliber sniper bullet hitting her in the chest knocked her off balance. She hissed in pain as she fell to one knee. “Conflux, you bastard what are you doing?!”

 “ _Choosing the winning team, of course. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of playing this pneuma-lion and plug rat game.”_ Conflux said.

 “When I find you, Conflux, I’m going to tear out your Spark and your T-cog!” She snarled.

 “ _That won’t be happening any time soon. I shot you directly above your Spark core, severing a very critical power line that channels your Spark’s neural connection to the rest of your body. That slight burning you feel in your chest? That’s probably the swelling of a ruptured circuit line. If you don’t get that checked out soon, you’ll either pass out from internal damage, or go offline for good from a zero point forming in your chest. So dear sister, what’s your choice? Run and live, or live and die like brother and sister?”_

Refractionary growled, glaring at the Autobots before jumping up and shifting into a sleek white hover jet before soaring into the skies above, leaving her job unfinished.

 “Did she just…ditch us?” Windcharger asked.

 “What? Are you complaining?” Skids asked.

 “No way in hell!”

 Orion put away his axe, wondering what brought about this change in tactics. Then he heard someone calling him on his personal comm-channel. “ _Orion Pax, yes? I am Conflux, formerly of the Functionist Council and the mech who just saved your aft. Not to mention a traitor to my brethren. If your forces are willing to accept me as a prisoner, I’m willing to comply on the condition that I speak with you and your commanding officer.”_

Orion’s eyes narrowed and he looked at his friends. “Elita, call Zeta. Tell her we have a guest coming along with us.”

XXXXXX

 Alpha Trion stood at the rear of the large crowd that was attending the state funeral service of two CDF officers, Bumper and Fastback. The Archivist, who rarely ventured far from the Hall of Records when he did go outside, was silent as a ghost as he watched Sentinel Prime say his piece.

 “Words fall short of the mark. Losing one of our own is never easy.” Sentinel began solemnly. “This is a great loss…but this is no tragedy. Loss of life is only a tragedy if it is without purpose. Some say that we may not see the purpose immediately, but that it will present itself in time.” He looked at those assembled before the caskets with a hardened gaze. “To me, this moment offers an immediate, startling purpose. A crystal clarity. I am only the head of the security forces. I do not make the policy-together we simply enforce law. The difference now is that these outlaws have your attention. The only question unanswered…is what do we do with it?”

After the funeral, Alpha Trion followed Sentinel into the Stellar Galleries, where he found the Prime speaking with Prowl. “That was a brilliant speech, Sentinel. Very eloquent of you.”

 Both mechs turned to face him. Neither of them were very pleased to see him. Prowl was about to scold Trion for entering the Stellar Galleries without proper notice, but the Archivist gave him a hard glare that actually made Prowl back down before he knew it.

 “Alpha Trion,” Sentinel smirked and waved Prowl away. As the officer walked out of the dome, Sentinel gave the Archivist his full attention. “I didn’t think you would actually come to the funeral. Nice of you to grace us mortals with your presence.”

 “I wanted to see how you would turn the death of your own men into a propaganda scene against the Decepticons, and I wasn’t surprised.” Alpha Trion said dryly. “What do you think you’re doing, Sentinel? Enforcing martial law on the badland territories, arresting people who support the Decepticons, using lethal force on non-violent protests? Are you mad?” He rarely spoke in such a scathing tone, but his patience with Sentinel was running thin at this point. The sheer audacity of his actions appalled him.

 “Watch your mouth, old man. I am a Prime!” Sentinel growled.

 “We both know that’s not true in the slightest.” Alpha Trion replied. Sentinel’s eyes widened, but he quickly calmed himself. “Now answer the question.”

 Sentinel frowned. If Trion was acting this verbally aggressive, then he must be really angry. Too bad he wasn’t afraid of ancient mechs past their expiration date. “I am simply enforcing order upon that lawless scar on Cybertron. That place has been allowed to run rampant for far too long, and it was time that someone brought those thugs to their knees. We’re in a critical situation here with the Functionists and I don’t need those Cons messing things up even more.”

 “Those are people you’re demonizing.”

 “They are Decepticons! And there are punishments for supporting terrorist threats to the government.”

 “And your solution is to turn city’s like Tarn and Nyon into city-wide prison camps? Sentinel, you’re only making things worse.”

 “If you think you can do a better job, then be my guest.” Sentinel growled. “I’m doing my job as head of the CDF and Elite Guard, and all this will end once we take down that so-called revolutionary Megatron.”

 “How do you plan on taking him out?”

 “That’s need to know information, Archivist. Just know, that once I’m done with those Cons, the Functionists are next, followed by Pax’s Autobots!”

 “How many people will you fight to maintain control over your glass empire?” Trion scowled. “Who will you target next? The Monoform Movement? The Circle of Light?”

 “I will fight them all if it means that Cybertronian society will be preserved you fossil, what part of that are you not getting?!” Prime yelled, his booming voice echoing into the chamber. “Threats to the senate’s power will be eliminated!”

 “Threats to your power, you mean.” Trion replied and shook his head. “Sentinel, I will only say this once. Stop this madness. Stop strangling the people before they snap and turn on your like abused animals. You still have a chance to use your power to truly make a difference.”

 Sentinel snorted and roughly pushed past Trion. “You do your job, I’ll do mine. And that’s making sure Cybertron remains strong and orderly, the way it was meant to be.” He looked back and smirked. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to send you Pax’s head after I rip him a new dispenser!”

 Alpha Trion glared at Sentinel’s back as the laughing Prime left the Galleries. He hadn’t felt such animosity towards someone since Ember. Then he turned his baleful glare on a small space between the main description terminal in front of a stellar display and the wall, where the tiny mech Infinitus stood glaring back at him. They shared an intense stare down for a minute before Infinitus stepped back and disappeared into the shadows.

XXXXXX

 It was a dark and stormy night outside the Kokular base in the upper slums of Kaon. The heavy rain obscured the gloomy city save for the large, flashing neon signs and archways. Soundwave wasn’t bothered by the downpour as he and his three guests neared the bunker that acted as a medical center for the gladiators that survived a rather tough night against their opponents. He knocked on the door in a pattern known only to those close to the Decepticon inner circle and it slid open to allow them entry. Swindle, the hit man and financial advisor for the Combaticon mercenary group, was sitting near the doorway watching some Ky-Alexian dramas on the tiny monitor on his desk.

 “Yo Wave, word to the wise-the big guy is in a bad mood.” Swindle smirked. “He had a run-in with some femme that spat out acid or something. Lost an arm.”

 Soundwave’s face was blank as ever, as was his voice. “Is he functional?”

 “Yeah, yeah, he’s good.” Swindle chuckled. “Good as any bot could be with a melted arm, I guess. Frag he was mad as hell. But you should see the other gal.”

 Kaonian medical centers were part chop shops, part morgues. Considering they were a certified sanitation officer’s nightmare, these were places where damaged gladiators were repaired the best they could with materials medics had on hand. Bots on the edge of stasis would have their limbs or components replaced or rebuilt, fluids staining the dirty floor, welding torches patching up gouges and stab wounds. The deceased would be recycled for parts used by other gladiators; a universal rule among those of the underground. Bots who have proved their worth and achieved the status of legendary were granted proper burials or cremations. People like Megatron.

 As Soundwave neared his table, Megatron was already having his right arm replaced. The rest of his body was banged up and riddled with deep scratches and stabs, but it was nothing major. Knockout was already removing the arm as Megatron took notice of Soundwave’s quiet footsteps and turned his head to him.

 “Hnnn, what do you want?” Megatron asked, his voice a little weak from the aesthetic.

 “You requested for a flight capable combatant?” Soundwave asked.

 Megatron hissed as Knockout attached the replacement arm to his shoulder and started connecting the wire links and neuro-circuits. “You have one?”

 “Negative-I present three.”

 Behind Soundwave stood three mechs of identical body appearance-Seekers. The red and silver mech was Starscream, brother to the current Seeker commander, Deadscream. The blue one was Thundercracker, and the purple one was Skywarp, an outlier with limited teleportation capabilities. Megatron already could tell that these three Seekers were here on their own accord. If Deadscream knew they were helping the Decepticons, she would’ve killed them on the spot; most likely in a slow and painful manner.

 Starscream, who had heard so much about Megatron, was in shock for a moment at the sight of this infamous mech, but he caught himself and bowed. “Megatron! I pledge my allegiance undying!”

 His Seeker brothers followed suit, kneeling before him. Megatron smirked at their zeal. “Heh. You can fly?”

 “Three times the speed of sound.” Starscream smirked. “All of us.”

 Skywarp nodded. “Can I just say I am-we are honored to have the opportunity to join you in the arena, to fight by-“

Megatron grimaced as the connections in his arm were final fully processed. “The arena? No, no. I have something much better in mind for you Seekers.” He grinned at their disappointed looks. “Don’t look so disappointed. You will wear my badge-and you will kill for me.”

 His hand split apart and retreated into his forearm, shifting to extend a new port that generated a purple morning star. “In times of chance, we all must be flexible, hmm?”

 Starscream gulped at the wicked looking weapon. “Yes…my lord.”

 “Excellent! Knockout!” He said to his medic. “Those three-I give you the steel. Give me back the weapon!”

XXXXXX

 His name was Conflux of the colony planet Oria-a planet that was previously hit by the rust plague. Forged in the 9th cycle of 103, he was only around four years old before the rust plague started infecting colony worlds, working as a marine patrol guard thanks to his water hovercraft alt mode until his powers manifested during a high-speed chase, nearly killing his partner.

 Conflux was escorted to an isolated cell in Mount Edus upon arrival. He offered no resistance as promised, placing him in a cell for interrogation. Once Orion and Zeta kept their promise and met with him in the cell, he started letting out everything he knew about himself and the Functionists. In Roller’s words, he sang like a Solwing.

 “I didn’t know what it was at first. Awakening your powers is abrupt and violent. You aren’t expecting it.” Conflux told them. “I almost killed my patrol team during a chase through the water way of my hometown, the same when I gave my conjux a hug. Man, scared him half way to death when I nearly blew up his gun.”

 “What are your powers?” Zeta asked.

 “I supercharge inanimate objects through touch and turn them into makeshift bombs that I can detonate at will. That datapad, this table and chair, one touch and it could be as lethal as an actual bomb.” Conflux wiggled his slender fingers for effect.

 “I thought travel to the colonies was banned to avoid the chance of the plague reaching Cybertron? How were you able to get passage to the planet?” Orion asked.

 “How else? Steelheart. Once she learned of my abilities, she shipped my ass off the planet after pulling some strings to get me to Cybertron, regardless of the dangers she was putting the planet in. It’s how she works, finding a fancy new outlier and digging her claws into them before anyone has a chance to react. Back then, it was just her, Obliteration, Nightwielder, and Firefight. They were and still are the heart of the Council, before the other joined.” Conflux went silent for a moment. “I was there when the plague came to my world. I don’t know how it got there, but...it was something I will never forget. Most of the people in my town were infected, and were slowly dying from it. My conjux was one of them. The disease has no cure, and it acts without visible symptoms; it simply eats at your body, causing your organs to fail one by one before snuffing out your Spark. I remained untouched, but I had the pleasure of watching my lover die in front of me. It’s…it stayed with me. And I think it was how Steelheart managed to get me to join her group.”

 “And the rusting agents that we found at the munitions plant, were those based off the plague that attacked your planet?” Orion questioned.

 “I think so. She probably brought a few bodies with her in a containment transport for study.” Conflux shook his head. “It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, lest of all you and your friends. But I only just learned about that recently, along with the K-bombs she was developing. Steelheart was planning for an all out war with the senate if things reached a breaking point, and she wanted to make sure that our enemies were broken so badly that they would never want to face us again.”

 “That’s insane. She could’ve infected the whole planet and caused the extinction of our race if something went wrong.” Zeta said.

 “Hence why she was doing most of the development on Epistemus. To avoid that outcome. You have to understand that between your Autobots and the senate coming down on us after staging that incident in Tarn-“

 “Whoa, staging?” Orion cut in. “What do you mean staging?”

 Conflux looked straight at Orion as he said this. “The Great Fire was not our doing. Sentinel Prime set that beast on Tarn, using an airship disguised as one of or carriers. It was a ploy to set the public against us and it worked like a charm. He’s always been after us, and now he has reason to take military action against the Functionists. It was a declaration of war that Steelheart is all too ready to answer in kind. That’s what the weapons were for, a counter-strike.”

 Orion and Zeta glanced at each other. They were right about one thing; war was about to break out between the Senate and Functionists and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Zeta gave Conflux a hard look.

 “Why are you telling us this?” She asked. “In fact, why did you surrender to us in the first place? We could’ve easily killed you and moved along.”

 “It’s because I’m tired. I’m sick of this cold war we started with the rest of the planet. I joined the Council to enforce the order that Nova Prime brought about when he created the caste system, and because Steelheart is a hard gal to say no to. I got tired of the religious nonsense she was spouting and the cult they formed around outliers. I was sick of bots looking at me like I was a monster, and I was done with this pissing contest against the senate. Then I learned about the stockpiling biological weapons and that was just it.” He looked up at them. “You Autobots have Steelheart cornered and now she’s running scared because of it. You’ve essentially crippled her whole operation and now she knows she’s vulnerable. The death of two more councilmen and my defection will spur her into action. If I’m correct, she’s going take everything, from soldiers to assets and whole herself up in a fortress.”

 “A fortress?” Zeta echoed.

 “Yeah, one that’s located in the Primax peninsula. It was a repurposed fortress that once belonged to that barbarian group, the Razors, back in the Age of Evolution. Steelheart had meant for it to be a fall back place in case we were backed into a corner. There’s going to be a lot of firepower, Pax. Artillery units, anti-aircraft weapons, and the outliers themselves.”

“That goes without saying.” Pax sighed.

 “The council themselves are the most dangerous element there. Each council member is an outlier like myself, all twelve of us.” Conflux said and began listing their abilities. Fortuity has danger sense and teleportation. Refractionary controls light. Faultline generates vibrations to create localized quakes. Limelight is a walking battery, able to generate tons of energy at once. My power is to channel energy into non-living objects and turn them into bombs. Repulsor’s body was encased in an energy field that repels physical objects with force equivalent to how hard it hits her. Deathpoint can shoot anything in his line of sight, no matter what the environmental conditions are. Firefight had control over heat and flame. Obliteration absorbs energy and can channel it through his body to redirect it. Nightwielder has control over shadows. And Steelheart…she controls bioelectrical energy, a walking storm and is one of the strongest among us. Be very careful of her.”

 Orion nodded and stood up. “Thank you for this information, Conflux. You may have saved a lot of lives today.”

 Conflux shook his head and took Orion’s offered hand. “It matters not to me. I just want it all to end. I don’t want to see another home burned to the ground. Just make sure I didn’t throw it all away for nothing.”

 “Don’t worry. I won’t fail.” Orion promised, never sounding so sure in his life. “We won’t fail this time.”

XXXXXX

 Kaon was a dangerous place, but only to those who were born weak. Senator Decimus liked to think he was born strong; after all, he was born of the right stock, a mech forged from the same metal as those of noble bots such as Nova Prime’s primal sacrament. And here in the Badlands, as those foreigners dubbed his city, the strong should always be celebrated. And what better way to do that than celebrate the anniversary of his inauguration as Senator?

 Decimus stood at the unveiling of his might golden statue, a grand structure that was built alongside the statues of those that proceeded him. The perfect way to show who was in charge in this wretched city. He walked onto the stage and waved at the applauding crowd with a smile, many of them his avid supporters and allies in the political field. They were the heart and soul of this city, not those slaves in the factories and mines. If they were in charge, everything would be burning by now.

 “What an honor it is to be recognized this way.” Decimus said proudly. “This is a glorious day for the House of Decimus-“

 His speech was interrupted by the sound of a jet engine. Everyone looked up to see a blue jet fly over them low enough that the sonic boom he released knocked everyone off their feet. Decimus, outraged at this blatant disrespect for his authority, ordered his guards to shoot the ruffian down, only to find his security team dead at the feet of a purple mech.

 “Howdy.” Skywarp grabbed hold of the senator and teleported off the stage.

 “Senator!” One of the guards exclaimed. “Hurry, we need to locate the senator and secure him! Contact HQ-“

 A hail of blaster bolts from above caught their attention. Starscream and Thundercracker were launching a heavy bombardment on the crowd, firing their missiles at the statues and guards, sending them in a frenzy. Ill-equipped to deal with airborne threats, the security team could only run to avoid getting blown up or crushed by the crumbling statues. The two Seekers showed no mercy as they attacked everyone. There would be no witnesses.

 Starscream flew in low and landed next to Skywarp in is robot mode. The outlier nodded to his commander. “We’re clear.”

 Starscream smirked and glanced down at the kneeling senator. The politician was obviously trying to look strong, but was clearly afraid. “Not bad, hmm senator? Punch a hole in the sky and the masses are transfixed, eyes wide, mouths agape-like a pack of startled primitives.” He knelt down to stare Decimus in the face. “Including your security detail. Skywarp, secondary objective: mark it.”

 Thundercracker and Skywarp aimed their laser cannons at the government building and started shooting continuous beams to burn a symbol into the stone. Decimus looked upon the symbol in fear and glanced up at Starscream. “W-why?”

 “Oh senator. If I told you,” Starscream grinned. “I’d have to kill you.”

 With their work down, Skywarp teleported them all away from the wreckage of the plaza; leaving behind a yard full of dead or injured bots and a Decepticon symbol etched into the government meeting hall. This was only a prelude to the chaos that would later follow.

XXXXXX

 Alpha Trion sat in his office in the Hall of Records watching the news reports on the various incidents that followed after Decimus’s kidnapping.

 A group of Minicons sabotaging the smelting factories. Local Kaonian police forces being assaulted by armed assailants across the state. Over a hundred deaths reported in Kaon’s wealthy Kygan sector, the result of poisoning in the filtration system. Bombings in Styx and Mytharc. Raids on the highways connecting Ky-Alexia and Kaon by bandit gangs.  Transportation systems attacked by unidentified flyers.

 It was just like before with the bombings before the Clampdown. But here, the intent was clear, as was the perpetrator. A sharp, angular purple symbol; an insignia that Alpha Trion realized was modeled after the face of Megatronus, the Fallen. The Decepticons.

 Trion scowled, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and looked at the Covenant. The tome was open on his desk, but he did not read it. He knew what was coming next. The endgame. The Covenant refused to show him the future past the next day.

 He could practically hear Sentinel Prime’s enraged screams from the Decagon. Trion would be lying if he said it didn’t give him some satisfaction.

XXXXXX

 When all sources pointed to the convergence of all Functionist groups gathering in the Tyran peninsula, the SOC realized that Conflux’s information was 100 percent accurate. Steelheart was holding up in the Primax fortress for a last stand against her enemies, with all of her military assets present and ready for combat.

 Zeta ordered a full mobilization on the fortress, a frontal assault. Halogen offered some vehicles and soldiers from the Nova Cronum militia. The Manganese Mountains were all abuzz with activity as a fleet of orbital carriers were being boarded by almost two city’s worth of bots and gunships armed to the teeth. This was possibly the final battle, and this knowledge made a lot of people nervous and antsy.

 “I don’t think I need to tell you all to come back alive, do I?” Zeta asked as she and Orion walked into the hangar bay.

 “No, you don’t.” Orion said. They stopped behind the dropship that the Autobots were using to fly into the area.

 “But I’m going to say it anyway. Watch each other’s backs and stay alive.” She said. “That’s an order.” She gave the other Autobots a look as she said this. “This will be the hardest battle of your military careers. A literal warzone. If things start going south, just take out Steelheart and her cronies.”

 “She says that like it’s easy.” Skids muttered. Roller elbowed him and leaned back in his seat.

 “We know, Zeta. Now can we get going? Skids is about to lose his mind here.”

 “Shut up, Roller!”

 Orion smiled at them and gave Zeta a salute before entering the dropship to sit next to Elita-1. Zeta wished them all good luck one last time as the aircraft started taking off. She and Halogen watched from the foot of Mount Killia, as the carriers and gunships floated into the air and flew towards the peninsula due east.

 Inside the dropship, the Autobots all sat in silence. No one wanted to say anything. Each bot took this brief moment to either pray, plan ahead for any unintended outcomes, or just enjoy each other’s company. Shadowkat and Skids prayed, both to Primus and Shadowkat’s deceased lover Blackbeetle to give them strength in this fight. Chromedome said a mental goodbye to his old partner Prowl. Roller sat back in his seat and rest his eyes while Windcharger fiddled with his gun. And Orion and Elita-1 sat together for what may be the last time.

 ‘Don’t worry, Elmeth.’ Orion thought. ‘I’m going to avenge you. Once this is over, Sentinel will be next, and then Cybertron can finally enter its new age.’

XXXXXX

 It was almost an hour before the army reached Ky-Alexia’s airspace, and then the fireworks went off as soon as they were within eyesight of the fortress. It was like a small, archaic castle reaching at least two stories into the air, with a small city surrounding the building like a modern city-state, only these were curved and fluid looking in design, with heavy plates covering the once firm tensile infrastructure. The place was centuries old, but the Enforcers had clearly modernized it to some degree, as anti-aircraft guns and missile pods rose up from het buildings and ground to open fire on the approaching army. The carriers deployed their gunships and aerial bots to combat the enemy flyers that the Enforcers sent at them, while dropships were lowered to the ground to deploy their troops.

 “Drop us off here!” Orion shouted to the pilot. Their transport settled near the ground and the Autobots jumped onto the ground just as a laser guided missile blew the shuttle up, blasting them away. Orion hit the ground hard and called to his team. “Is everyone alright?!”

 “Just barely, Pax!” Roller shouted over the laser gun fire and explosions. “What do we do now?”

 “We have only one job here, and that’s to eliminate the rest of the Council.” Orion pointed at the castle that loomed over the battlefield, its large shadow casting an ominous darkness over the fighting soldiers. “They’re probably monitoring the battle from in there. We fight our way towards the fortress then we’ll initiate phase two.”

 Shadowkat looked up at the towering castle and narrowed her eyes. Her keen optics caught sight of something pushing open the doors on the second floor and step out into the evening light. “Guys, I think one of them is going to meet us up close and personal.”

 The large figure jumped off the balcony and ignited the boosters in his boots, flying towards the invading forces. It was a large suit of armor, decked out with two shoulder mounted plasma cannons, a rail gun on his left arm and a rocket launcher on his right. Inside was the outlier, Limelight, who was piloting this prototype armor that was based off the Elite Guard’s Apex armor units. He crashed to the ground and fired the first volley of rockets at the front line of SOC troops, annihilating most of them in a wall of flames. He led the Enforcers in pushing back the invaders in a slow march, taking energy bolts to his armored body like they were nothing.

 “Well, at least he made out job easier.” Chromedome quipped.

 “Not the time, Chromedome!” Roller ran forward and fired three heat seeking rockets at Limelight. They hit their target perfectly but the outlier just walked through the flames with little more than a scorch mark on his ivory plated chest where the rockets hit.

 “There you are!” Limelight said and charged at the Autobots. They jumped apart as he jumped on them with his large fists, missing them but creating a deep hole in the ground with his fists. He spun around and pointed his cannons at the girls, but Roller leapt on his back and started punching his face. It didn’t do much more than amuse Limelight, and Roller was grabbed and thrown into the ground. Orion leapt at him and swung his battle axe at his knee, but even the armor’s joints were heavily plated. “You savages don’t learn from your mistakes, do you?”

 “Shut up!” Shadowkat pounced on him, but Limelight fired a suppressor from his rail gun, catching her in the chest and negating her powers. She fell to the ground and rolled away to avoid his large foot coming down on her.

 “Don’t think we weren’t prepared for you, beast. It was only a matter of time before you came running back for revenge.” Limelight spat. He felt more laser bolts and plasma bursts hit his head and back courtesy of Elita-1 and Chromedome shooting at him. “I’ve had enough of this!”

 Limelight focused his optical targeting sights on them and fired a second volley of rockets. They scattered to avoid getting blown to pieces, but the explosions threw them off balance and nearly did enough damage to bring them down. He felt something hit the back of his head and glanced back to see Skids holding a remote in his hands.

 “And what are you doing to do?” Limelight sneered.

 “Me? Nothing.” Skids smirked.

 Limelight looked at him puzzled. “Excuse me?”

 “I don’t have to do anything. Except press this button.” Skids pressed the button on the remote.

 The armor seized up in an electrical surge that paralyzed its motor-servo systems and Limelight grunted in pain as he felt the electricity travel through his nervous system as well, since he was mostly powering the armor’s power source. He fell to his knees and tried to move, but he could barely make his arms twitch due to the tremendous weight on his body now.

 “You may be a walking battery, but your armor still runs on electricity. A tiny EMP charge on a neuro-helmet is enough to drop you like a rock and short out your fancy armor.” Skids said smugly. “Now, Shadowkat?”

 Limelight turned his head and saw Shadowkat lunge at him and kick him in the chest. The only difference was that her body phased through the armor and made contact with his body, sending him phasing out of the armor and falling onto his back. He hit the ground and she pounced on his, slashing at his throat with his claws and severing his vocal circuits. One sword thrust into the head later and he was dead in seconds.

 “Nice job, Skids.” Windcharger grinned. He looked at the armor that was kneeling on the ground. “But what do we do with the armor?”

 Skids looked it up and down, and gave his comrades a cocky grin. “Dibs.”

XXXXXX

As soon as the message was sent, gladiators and Decpticons flocked to one of the ancient arenas on the outskirts of Kaon. It was an old arena that used to host ceremonial matches between fighters from different city-states back in the past as a sign of unity and sportsmanship. Global events that were supposed to be enjoyed by the masses, but weren’t as bloody as modern matches. Upon the decision to make pit fighting illegal, it was left abandoned to rust, and the local crime syndicate didn’t try to use the place to host matches because it was too public. But considering the history it had, Megatron thought it would be nice to have what he thought to be the most memorable night of his Decepticon career in a place as sacred as the Master Arena.

 Megatron and Nightshade walked through one of the side entrances towards the main platform discussing their next move. Despite what people thought, this wasn’t going to be some battle royal. No, Megatron planned for this to be something more.

 “Are you sure you want to do this publicly?” Nightshade asked. “We could easily just kill him over a life broadcast without exposing ourselves. It’s safer that way.”

 “If I wanted to take things the safe route, I’d be dead at the bottom of the mines by now. I’m here to send a message to our brothers and sisters, not hide behind a camera in some hidden location.” Megatron said. “Now, go meet up with Soundwave. He’ll tell you how we’ll go about this when things get started.”

 Nightshade frowned but nodded and walked back outside, passing Starscream on the way. As the Seeker neared him, Megatron gave him a stern look. “Starscream, is your task complete?”

 “Y-yes, it is. But I just don’t understand the ‘why’ of it all.” Starscream inquired.

 Megatron smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just remember what we agreed. You could say that we’re sending a message.”

 There were nearly a thousand bots in the arena. Many were Decepticons, but some were just a bunch of outlaws and vagabonds looking to make some quick shanix from a few fights and such. Despite the mix-matched crowd, the thunderous cheers they gave were genuine nonetheless and made Megatron even more pumped for what he had planned. With a few drones recording his face on the monitors, he stepped out into the light with Starscream and Soundwave flanking him. He waited for his audience to settle down before speaking.

 “I want to ask each of you a question-why are you here?” He asked, walking down the stairs to their level. He looked at each bot he recognized as he listed off their birthplaces. “I come from Tarn. You come from Vos. Altihex, Uraya, and Kalis. Here we gather in Kaon and so we bring our misery together-and we fight. We are the forgotten, trying to forget. Forgotten-until you stand with a blade in one hand, a throat in the other. Then you remember. You feel it-you are alive!”

 The crowd hung on his every word, many of them looking at him with a reverence that one would normally reserve for a Prime. “We can wear badges. Join teams, fight and kill. Then the badge comes off and you crawl home. Assembled here, I see strength. Power. The most dangerous cybertronians alive.” He gripped the Decepticon symbol chained around his neck and held it up. “So what if the badge never came off? What if our new arena was the entire face of the planet? What if there was one badge for all of us? And instead of fighting each other, we attack those that put us here…and we take what is ours!”

 His words brought out more shouts and cheers, raising their fists in agreement. Megatron nodded and continued his speech.

 “Would you have the bearings for that? Would they?” he waved a hand at Senator Decimus, who was being dragged in by Skywarp and Thundercracker. Everyone spat vile curses and death threats the senator’s way, fully intending to carry out their threats to the letter. “Look at the fear. The self interest. The loathing for us, loathing for what they have created. Fear for what will happen. We are without fear. And we will make out mark upon this world!”

 Megatron walked over to Decimus and grabbed his head, pulling it back to show his face. “Why don’t you all get started on making an impression?”

 The bots closed in on the senator, brandishing large fists and claws and teeth all ready to rip him apart. But the impending massacre was averted when the roof was blown in and a platoon of Elite Guardsmen flew in on tow cables and wings. More soldiers busted in through the various entrances and fired smoke grenades to hinder their targets’ vision. EMP grenades were fired at those who tried to escape.

 “Elite Guard!” Motormaster yelled, punching a mech in the face that tried to grab him in a chokehold. He swung his sword and cut two more bots in half. “Everyone, evacuate the building!”

 “Run where?” Starscream coughed. “I can’t see a damn thing!”

 Megatron scowled as he saw most of the gladiators and criminals get brought down with relative ease by the well prepared Guardsmen. Many were knocked unconscious and had inhibitor clamps stuck on them to deactivate their T-cogs. Then he saw the senator crawling away to safety.

 “If we’re not getting out of here, then neither is your precious senator!”

Megatron charged at Deceimus, cutting down anyone who tried to stop him. Three mechs grabbed his legs, but one of them had his head crushed underfoot by the larger mech. More and more soldiers piled on top of him to slow his charge, and though at least five had met their end at the point of his sword, their combined weight actually brought him down.

 “I’ll gut every one of you!” Megatron growled. Prowl ran up and attached an inhibitor claw to his back, but took a backhand that nearly dislocated his jaw.

 “Restrain him!” Prowl ordered. Lightspeed and Hound quickly grabbed Megatron’s arms and clamped a pair of stasis cuffs onto his wrists, pulling his arms behind his back. When Megatron was finally restrained, Prowl got to his feet and called it in. “Sentinel Prime, sir. We have him.”

 Sentinel Prime marched into the arena, his bright orange armor covered in a thick layer of outer armor that was black and dark red, his mouth plate in place. He completely ignored the whimpering Decimus in favor of studying Megatron up close for the first time since hearing about him.

 “So this is Megatron, huh? The big bad himself?” Sentinel snorted, looking down at him. “I don’t see it.”

 “Keep…looking!” Megatron hissed, glaring up at Sentinel with all the hatred he could muster.

 Sentinel wasn’t impressed. “I thought he’d be bigger.” He turned and walked away. “Process him.”

 Megatron was pulled to his feet and escorted out of the arena. But as he was marched out into the cold night air, he couldn’t help but give a little smirk. Too easy.

XXXXXX

 If Regalia had a face, it would be etched in a scowl at the sight before her. The battle wasn’t going well for either side. The SOC forces were steadily encroaching upon their territory but were slowly being eradicated by the artillery units that were holding them back. The anti-air guns and particle cannons were doing significant damage to the carriers, but were no match for the enemy aerial units, and then there was the thing with the Autobots edging closer to the castle.

 “Limelight’s dead.” Refractionary said.

 “I can see that.” Regalia replied. “I’m not surprised. His combat skills were disgusting and he barely had any business skills either. We’re better off without him.”

 “Not to mention his armor is being used against us.” Refractionary pointed to the large armored suit punching a line straight to the castle, taking out whole groups of Enforcers with the weapons that were designed to defend them in the first place. Skids was making good use of his new toy. “At this rate, we’ll be at a stalemate, while the Autobots come to pick us off one by one.”

 “Then let’s tip the odds in our favor.” Regalia summoned a geyser of water under her feet. “Go take care of the air units. I’ll have Faultline deal with our renegade armor.”

 Refractionary nodded and jumped out the window, transforming to her jet mode and flying towards the heart of the aerial chaos going on in the skies above. The light warped around her and started shooting down any flyer that wasn’t bearing the Enforcer symbol, weaving through a web of lasers and missiles as she started attacking the weapons systems on the carriers.

 As for Regalia, she jumped off the balcony she was standing on and propelled herself forward on a jet of water across the battlefield. Skids had no idea what hit him when a ton of water crashed into him and slammed him into the ground with enough for to leave his imprint in the ground. Regalia surfed along a continuous wave as she forced Skids into the ground.

 “This should be a lesson to you. Don’t try to fight against a goddess.” Regalia said. She waved her other hand to cut a piece of metal that was thrown at her from the left and looked down to see Windcharger coming at her with pieces of a mobile tank floating around him.

 “Come at me bro!” He yelled.

 “Foolish robots.” Regalia sneered. She was about to impale the ignorant mech on an ice spike when she was almost shot out of the air by a particle beam. She fell to the ground to avoid the follow up strike as Chromedome rolled into view on a mobile particle cannon that used to shoot down the flyers. Chromedome continued to keep her running with constant attacks along with Windcharger.

 “Ow.” Skids groaned. She stood back up and pointed his rail guns at Regalia. “That wasn’t nice you glitch!”

 “Hyaa!” Faultline jumped on top of him and nailed him in the protected face with a punch that rattled the whole armor. Skids slid across the ground and quickly kicked her away to avoid getting slugged a second time.

 “That hurt.” Skids grunted.

 “It’s supposed to little mech.” Faultline replied and rushed him.

 Orion, Elita-1, Roller and Shadowkat watched them fight off the two outliers the best they could. Up above, Skyhawk’s squadron was duking it out with Refractionary and her intensive light powers.

 “You think they need help?” Kat asked.

 “No, I think they have this handled.” Roller nodded. Skids certainly was enjoying that armor a little too much though.

 “Let’s get inside the castle and finish this. Our forces can’t fight like much any longer.” Orion said and led the team in through the massive front doors of the castle.

XXXXXX

 The interior of the castle looked in much worse shape than the outside. The main hall looked old and derelict, with the walls and floor rusty and worn from constant exposure to the salty sea air from the east. The windows held the remains of stained glass shattered during the centuries that were in between the castle’s abandonment. Aside from a few fresh footprints, it looked like no one had really bothered to rebuild this place at all.

 “Where is everyone? I thought this place would be crawling with at least two dozen guards or something.” Roller said.

 “Maybe that glitch doesn’t see us as a big enough threat.” Shadowkat spat, fingering her photon rifle. “I can’t wait to tear her chest open.”

 “Let’s just focus on finding Steelheart first, Kat.” Elita-1 said. She tried to fight down that sense of unease blossoming in her chest, but it was getting pretty evident that things weren’t going the way they expected.

 They walked deeper into the room and yet they encountered no traps, no gun turrets, and no surprise attacks. Orion scanned the room and could find no life signals either.

 “Anyone seriously thinking we just walked into a trap?” Roller asked.

 “Don’t jinx it Roller.” Orion whispered. The only light present in the hall was that coming from the moonlight seeping through the windows. “Still, be on your guard. Let’s check the second floor.”

 Elita-1 took a deep breath and stepped onto the large black carpet near the throne room. As her foot touched the carpet, the floor erupted under her and Shadowkat. Their startled screams were quieted as they were swallowed up into the floor and vanished within seconds. Orion and Roller raised their weapons as the shadows gathered and formed a solid figure before them.

 “Nighwielder.” Orion growled.

 “What did you do with them?” Roller demanded.

 Nightwielder said nothing. Instead he willed the shadows to circle around his body like a long black cloak. A piece broke off and formed a large scythe in his hands, which he twirled over his head with ease. Then he let out a terrifying shriek and charged at the two mechs.

 Elsewhere, Elita-1 and Shadowkat were being transported through the shadows. It was like being blasted in the face by hot air and rushing head first through a hurricane, the scent of sulfur filling their senses and their vision covered by darkness. It was only a few minutes but felt like an eternity before they were ejected back into the physical world. They were pushed onto the ground hard, and Shadowkat got to her knees to check on her partner.

 “Elita, are you okay?” She asked, coughing slightly.

 “So we meet again little kitten.”

 Shadowkat and Elita-1 froze and looked up at their host. Steelheart stood just a few feet from them, lacking her extravagant coat and looking like an animal poised to strike at its prey. They jumped to their feet and pointed their weapons at her.

 “So you’re ready to fight. Good. I won’t be disappointed in killing you two then.” Steelheart drew her long sword from her back and pointed it at the two femmes. “Come at me, traitors. I want to see the light die in your eyes as I kill you!”

XXXXXX

Kaon’s Security Headquarters was having a very busy evening. The massive influx of prisoners from Sentinel’s raid were flooding in and everybody on hand were moving at full gear. In an unprecedented move, the senators from the five Badland cities (Senators Ixion of Tarn, Decimus of Kaon, Proteus of Mytharc, Raja of Styx and Tantalus of Simfur) were going to have an emergency meeting to place the criminals and trial, starting with Megatron. They wanted to convict him and send his aft off planet as soon as possible before anything could go wrong, and Sentinel was inclined to agree with that notion.

 Hence the need to cram nearly a thousand prisoners into a cell block designed to hold only two hundred. To say it was cramped was an understatement.

 “But we passed capacity thirty minutes ago!” The police captain complained. Sentinel wasn’t having it.

 “Look, prisoner overflow doesn’t mean we that we lay down tools, it means we get creative!” He growled. “Priority ones are secured. Priority two needs anything with a lock and a door. Clear it, secure it, and fill it!”

 Starscream grunted as someone’s elbow dug into his lower abdomen and pushed the guy away before glaring at Megatron, who was staring hard at Sentinel Prime. He was surprisingly calm-almost too calm for Starscream’s case. This annoyed the Seeker.

 “Tell them something.” He hissed. He nudged Megatron in the arm. “Damn it, we’re all in here because of you! Tell them something!”

 Megatron waited a few seconds before leaning in towards Starscream and whispering something to him. Starscream’s face morphed into one of surprise before he gave a wry smirk that would make Knockout proud.

 Meanwhile, Sentinel was skimming through each prisoner’s information with face scans before stopping in front of the ever silent Soundwave. “This one?”

 “We’ve got a free man, sir.” Prowl said, pointing to Soundwave.

 “Are you sure?” Sentinel asked, frowning at the stoic mech.

 “Senate directive says this one walks away.” Prowl confirmed.

 “Damn beauracrats. Fine, he can walk, roll slide out on a trail of grease. I don’t care.” Sentinel frowned. The guards escorted Soundwave from his cell wand walked towards the doors, passing by the irate Prime. Sentinel gave him a rough shove. “Beat it.”

 “All right. This is a zero tolerance zone!” Ironhide yelled, slamming his baton across the laser bras. “Any resistance and you crack down immediately. Shock restraints will immobilize you one by one. So play nice!”

 “Psst…hey, hey!” Starscream whispered, motioning Ironhide to come closer.

 “What?”

 “You need to hear me out. I have something I need to tell the senate.” Starscream whispered. “Take me to them. I have something that guarantees their future-and mine.”

 Motormaster frowned as Starscream was escorted from the cell and out of the cell block. “Megatron, what did you tell him?”

 Megatron watched Starscream go with a passive expression before leaning back with a smirk. “Everything.”

XXXXXX

 Starscream was taken to the citadel on the top floor in the atrium where the meeting was taking place. He stood in the middle of the chamber in front of members of the government that caused Cybertron so much grief in the past. Though he was largely exempt from being the victims of the senate’s slag because of his Seeker status, Starscream didn’t respect these people any more than he did Jetfire.

 “Let the special hearing of the 117th senate be marked in commencement.” Senator Proteus announced. “Prisoner Starscream of Vos, I am required to list your charges as follows: assault, murder, armed robbery, destruction of state property, inciting civil disobedience, extortion, kidnapping, receiving and selling stolen goods, passing counterfeit funds, firing upon a state senator, multiple accounts of attacks on state officers and state property, supplying known criminals with illegal weapons, vehicle theft and misrepresenting yourself as a state official.”

 “Heh. Nobody’s perfect.” Starscream shrugged. “But, um, you aren’t going to call my sister after this are you?”

 “You risk much coming to us.” Proteus said in a hard voice.

 “I know! Deadscream’s gonna rip me to shreds when she hears about this.” Starscream huffed.

 “Why did the prisoner seek an early hearing?” Asked Raja.

 “I was eager to see how the other half lived.” He grinned and nodded in appreciation. “Very nice.”

 “This chair holds the prisoner in contempt!” Decimus shouted, still sporting the damages he acquired from his earlier imprisonment. “I suggest a movement to expel the prisoner and return him to confinement-“

 “Hah!” Starscream shouted. “Do your empty chairs also hold me in contempt?” He lost his smirk and got serious. “Listen up, I am here for a reason. I have a message for all of you. From all of those in your cells. Through your own interests you created this. You brought us here. You didn’t just make it possible-you made it happen. All we did was give it a badge!”

 “Take him away!” Proteus bellowed.

 “Oh,” Starscream raised his arms and unfolded two laser cannons. “I don’t think so.”

 The senators cried out in alarm as Starscream brutally murdered his two guards and made to run. “Security! Security!”

 The doors were blasted open, revealing Nightshade, Soundwave and his Minicons. She pointed her rail gun at Proteus’ head and smirked. “I don’t think that’s going to help.”

 Down below in the cell block, faint explosions could be heard. The guards looked around concerned, unsure of what was happening.

 “What’s that?”

 “Phase two for us,” Megatron grinned. “The end for you.”

 Back in the atrium, Nightshade tossed aside Decimus’ brutalized body down on the smoking pile of corpses that were the esteemed senators of Cybertron. The government of Cybertron that had ruled for 117, 000 stellar cycles, killed in less than ten minutes.

 “That was refreshing.” Starscream said. “Destruction of the old way starts with the self, eh senator?”

 “Stop fooling around and continue with the plan, Starscream.” Nightshade ordered.

 Starscream frowned and shifted to his jet mode, blasting a hole through the wall to fly outside and made his way towards where the cell block was located. “Stick to the plan? I’ll give that cretin a plan.” He grumbled.

 In the cell block, the guards were restless as they tried to contact the other squads without much success.

 “Comm’s out.”

 “Something’s wrong. Signal the others.”

 Megatron was ecstatic at this point. “Oh destiny, how it pleases you to caress a few and molest others. In the mines we had no idea that destiny must be harnessed, kicked, and ridden until it takes you in the right direction. Not just where we want it to go, but where you force it.”

 The walls behind the guards were blown in and Starscream glided in on boosters in his feet. He kicked one of the down mechs in anger and huffed.

 “Amateurs.”

 “Starscream, don’t waste time! All levels. All crimes. Open all cells-free everyone, not just those that came in with us.” Megatron ordered. “Today is the day we blow in the wind. Today is the day we harness Kaon!”

 Starscream pressed the touch pad on the terminal and opened all the cells in the prison block, from those with minor crimes to those who were set for state execution. Megatron stepped out of his cell and stomped on the head of one of his jailors.

 “Today is the day we ride!” He roared and the bots let out a collective cheer.

Soundwave and his Minicons entered the hall with crates of weapons given to them by Swindle. Rumble and Frenzy handed the escapees their weapons one at a time. As per Megatron’s orders, each bot got a weapon and a badge. They were freed by him, they owed him their new lives, and thus their loyalty was his. It wasn’t much of a problem for the free bots. They wanted payback for the slag they went through at the hands of the senate and upper castes, and he was giving it to them.

 Nightshade wheeled a cart over to Megatron, a rare grin on her pretty features. “Megatron? I have something you might like.”

 “Oh?” He said, interested in what she had to offer.

 “I noticed that you often lead with your right arm, and after that little disaster with the acid spitter, it’s gotten you into some trouble in past matches. So I had the folks over at the Kilgax munitions plant fashion something for you.”

 She opened the case and Megatron couldn’t help but whistle at its contents. It was a pitch black fusion cannon, but with a simpler, sleeker design than the bulky mess that the Elite Guard would normally use. It was custom made, its design based off the MK 2 cannons that the Primal Vanguard used in their more…adventurous operations. Megatron picked it up and attached it to his right forearm, relishing the feel of its systems connecting to the neuro-net in his arm.

 “Yes, this is nice. Powerful and simple. My kind of weapon.” Megatron smiled. He gave a grateful nod to Nightshade. “You’ve outdone yourself, Nightshade.”

 “It’s just something to make sure that a fair fight is the other guy’s problem.” She smirked.

 Megatron pointed his newly acquired fusion cannon at the wall and willed it to fire. It released a bright violet beam of energy that tore a large hole in the reinforced wall with ease and gave his new army a doorway to the outside world.

 “Megatron, we await your command.” Starscream said.

 “Fall on them as predators do prey.” Megatron swept his arm across the vast expanse of Kaon. “Show no mercy. Everything, all of this…burns!”

 The Decepticons with aerial alt modes jumped out of the hole and flew into the city skyline to fall upon the unsuspecting populace like a ravenous storm. Ground based Cons ran for the elevators and stairs to reach the ground level to do their fair share of damage. Megatron, Nightshade and Soundwave gathered to watch the chaos unfold.

 “Wake up Cybertron,” Megatron whispered as the screams and explosions began. “Your era is ending.”

XXXXXX

 The battle of the Primax Peninsula was still going strong, with both sides already facing several casualties. The sky above was lit up by the flaming wrecks of flyers and carriers, most of it SOC personnel felled by the outlier Refractionary. The white femme was engaged in a fierce dogfight with Skyhawk’s squadron, missile fire and laser bolts clashing with Refractionary’s constant photon beams and hard light shields. It was a tough battle, but not as chaotic as the one on the ground. Though many soldiers were fighting amidst damaged buildings and ravaged streets, most of the damage was caused by the three Autobots fighting the two outliers. One such Autobot was not having a good time.

 “Oh god!”

 Skids was knocked to the ground by the tank that Faultline had thrown at him, and it was only because of his armor that he avoided getting crushed from the intense weight. Faultline rushed forward and threw two punches into his face before he caught her wrists and fired a rocket from one of his launchers. She took it straight to the chest, but shrugged it off and kicked him in the chest. He responded by slowly squeezing her hands to their breaking point, but she didn’t seem all that affected.

 “Even with that armor, you’re nothing special.” Faultline said haughtily. Skids tried to push her back, but she stood firm like a boulder in a hurricane.

 “I don’t see you doing a very good job of fighting me back.” Skids grunted. This femme was strong, even by outlier standards.

 “You haven’t seen what I can really do!” Faultline stomped her foot on the ground and Skids felt his whole body vibrate before they were both thrown into the air by an upturned plate of metal. With his center of balance gone, Skids was left open to the one-two combo Faultline dealt him, dealing him two punches to the face and chest that had his head ringing. She tore off his missile pod and smashed it against his head before dealing an axe-kick to his armored shoulder that sent him crashing to the ground.

 “Ow,” Skids groaned. Even through the Apex unit, he felt those punches. He saw warnings slash across his plexi-glass covering and jumped back to avoid Faultline’s fist coming down on his back. In a move he barely recalled making, he swung his fist and punched Faultline square in the nose, sending her flying back through the doorway of a house and even through the back wall. Skids let out an excited “ooohhh!” and smiled. “What was that about being nothing special?”

 “You’re dead little man!” Faultline came charging back out of the house and rammed her shoulder into Skids, forcing him back out into the street. Skids held firm and pushed back, starting another deadlock maneuver once more.

 Chromedome hit the ground hard enough to bounce off it once before landing on his shoulder. He hissed in pain and pushed himself up, looking up to see Regalia smack Windcharger aside with a water tendril. He landed right beside him, but recovered fast enough to deflect the icicles thrown at them.

 “I’m getting sick of dealing with you!” Regalia growled. She waved her hand and brought up two large geysers of water from the ground, but felt something grab hold of her arms. “Huh?”

 Windcharger grinned and pulled hard on Regalia, dragging her to the ground and sending her falling face first into the dirt. Chromedome snatched up a launcher from a fallen Enforcer and fired a rocket at her, hitting her arm and knocking her back down. Regalia kicked her feet and sent a jet of water at his head, but Windcharger twisted her arm behind her back and continued pulling until he tore the limb off.

 “Grahh!” Regalia let out a pained scream and pushed her powers to her limits. Punching the ground, she had a geyser erupt under Chromedome and Windcharger, blasting them both off their feet and apart from each other. “You think a lost arm will stop me?!”

 She leapt forward and fell upon Chromedome like a hungry Predacon. One slash of her arm and his head was separated from his body. She barely paid his body (or his falling head) any attention as she spun around to Windcharger, smacking him to the ground with a hammer-shaped water construct and hitting him again to make sure he was down. She swung her arms and gathered all the water around her before flinging a hail of icicles his way.

 Skids was fortunate to catch sight of this and used his armor’s strength to lift Faultline off her feet and throw her into the path of the icicles. Unable to really doing anything while flying through the air, Faultline was brutally impaled through the chest, head, legs and arms by Regalia’s assault. Her body was mangled beyond notice as it fell to the ground, but Windcharger remained relatively unharmed, saved for a few broken bones. This didn’t improve Regalia’s mood at all.

 “You peasant!” Regalia flew into the air upon a geyser and fired a spinning jet of water at Skids and caught him in the chest, pushing him off the ground and into the air. He was still unharmed, but he was horrified to see that the water was seeping into the thin openings in his armor’s joints and helmet. With a wave of her hand, the water pressure inside his armor reached critical levels and there was a loud groan before the armor shattered, exploding apart and leaving him vulnerable to her next attack.

 “No, no, no!” Skids gritted his teeth as his only offense was destroyed within just a minute. He saw Regalia fly towards him on a water jet and he gave another terrified “No!”

 He shifted his arm into his grappling hook and fired it at her, managing to impale her right shoulder. Using his weight, he pulled himself towards her, bringing her off balance and granting him an opening to slam into her body. Regalia snarled and grabbed his face, squeezing as hard as she could while they fell towards the ground. Skids was angled beneath her as they hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and gave a resounding boom.

 Hitting the ground so hard had almost knocked Skids unconscious, but he remained online, just barely. Through his flickering optics, he saw Regalia standing over him, her face plate cracked, energon leaking from her shoulder where her arm used to be, and five icicles hovering behind her back, ready to strike.

 “Any last words,” She growled. “Before I gut you and your friends?”

 Skids was worried for a moment, but to Regalia’s puzzlement, his expression turned from fear into a smirk. “Can I ask you a question?”

 “What is it?” Regalia huffed, positioning the icicles above his body.

 “Do you know what a Headmaster is?”

 “Wha-“ Her question went unanswered as her head was blasted apart by Chromedome’s pistol.

XXXXXX

 Nightwielder was a monster. He moved as fast as the shadows he controlled, leaping through the air and disappearing the walls and floors. Orion and Roller tried shooting him with their plasma rifles, which were outfitted with spotlights per Conflux’s suggestion as Nightwielder’s powers were negated by ultraviolet light. Still, he moved faster than they could react, and eventually Orion was forced to fight him up close.

 Orion and Nightwielder dueled with axe and scythe. Their blades clashed with sparks flying in their faces. Roller fired a few blasts at Nightwielder’s back, but they passed through his body. Kicking Orion away, Nightwielder did a backflip and threw his scythe at Roller. Roller leaned back and let the scythe spin past him, but a quick flick of the wrist had the scythe flying back towards his back and landing a deep cut in Roller’s shoulder as it returned to its creator’s hands.

 “Roller!” Orion spun his battle axe around his body and slashed at Nightwielder, only to be parried and get a kick to the face for it. He stumbled back, but was coherent enough to jump aside as four spears of darkness shot from the ground. He rolled across the ground as more spears followed his trail until he jumped atop the rusted throne and then leapt into the air as that too was torn to shreds.

 Nightwielder prepared to jump at Orion and deal a swift attack that would at least cripple the Autobot, but he felt something warm on his back and turned to see Roller shining his spotlight on him. His shadow scythe dissolved in his hands and his body turned solid. Roller fired his rifle, scoring a few hits on the mech’s back and shoulders before Nightwielder ran back into the shadows. He sunk back into the floor and traveled through the darkness of the throne room towards Roller.

 “Pax, catch!” Roller tossed Orion the rifle just as Nightwielder shot up in front of him. Letting the scythe cut into his chest, Roller grabbed Nightwielder just as Orion shined the spotlight on them. He broke his arm with his strong grip and spun Nightwielder around so that he was facing the barrel of Orion’s gun. “Shoot him!”

 But he made a fatal error. Thought in the light, Nightwielder could not control his shadows, there was a small gap between his and Roller’s bodies that was covered from the light. This little sliver of shadow allowed Nightwielder to control them and manipulate them into ebony spikes shooting from his back, stabbing Roller through the chest. Orion already knew that his friend was hurt and pulled the trigger.

 “Roller!” He exclaimed, firing at the outlier. Nightwielder took two hits to the chest before flipping over Roller’s body, his right hand shifting into an electrical cannon and shooting a concentrated electrical blast through Roller’s back and out his chest, hitting Orion’s rifle and destroying it. “Scrap!”

 Nightwielder pushed Roller’s body aside and advanced towards Orion Pax, forming his scythe again for the final kill.

 Elita-1 knew that fear was a great motivator for getting people to do things that they wouldn’t even consider in their lives, but she wasn’t feeling very motivated right now. Even with Shadowkat by her side she felt that this was a huge mistake.

 Steelheart was indeed like a storm, a thunder storm with her at the eye. Shadowkat and Elita-1 were forced to keep their distance as bursts of energy arced from her body, tearing up the floor under them with each slash of her sword. Shadowkat could use her powers, since the energy field surrounding Steelheart negated her phasing ability, and Elita-1 could barely do more than summon TK barriers to deflect the bolts and protect herself from Steelheart’s mighty sword.

 “Pathetic! Simply pathetic!” Steelheart spat, blocking a few plasma bursts from Shadowkat’s neutron rifle and swinging her sword, missing Kat by a hair’s breath but cutting apart an eroded statue of Galvatron. Shadowkat ran in close to stab Steelheart, but her arm was grabbed and she was slammed into the ground. “I thought that seeing the outlier you risked your life for would be fun, but she’s just as useless as you are, kitten.”

 “Shut up you murderer!” Shadowkat snarled.

 “Murderer?” Steelheart swung her sword and sent a jagged bolt flying at Shadowkat, only to have Elita-1 deflect it. “Is it murder to snuff out flies that start sniffing around my food? I didn’t kill your sweetheart kitten, that was Firefight’s doing. And you killed her not too long after.”

 Elita-1 flanked her and tore up pieces of the walls and floor, ripping apart bronze and iron statues of warriors past to throw at her at the speed of a bullet. Steelheart destroyed the projectiles and charged at Elita-1, trying to bisect her in one slash. Elita-1 put up a shield, but each impact of the sword against her defenses was like a punch to her brain. It hurt, and she felt herself getting dizzy.

 “I got you!” Shoadwkat leapt at Steelheart from behind and threw a grenade at her. It exploded behind Steelheart’s head and made her stagger into a wall, allowing Shadowkat to pull Elita-1 away from her.

 “I should have dropped the bomb on you heathens when I had the chance, damn the consequences!” Steelheart snarled. Amazingly, she was mostly undamaged, but half of her face was badly burned, and her face plate, once clear and pristine, sported spider web cracks along her face.”You, Pax, Sentinel, Megatron, you’re all a bunch of savages going against the word of Primus! Blasphemers who think they can change god’s world!”

 “If this pisses you off, then don’t set a monster on a city and expect no one to do a damn thing about it!” Shadowkat yelled. Steelheart fired a beam from her hands and blasted the two femmes against the wall, cracking it.

 “I didn’t set that monster on Tarn, you fool.” Steelheart said. She shook her head, giving a low, maniacal laugh. “Primus, you’re all fools. To think that the Primal Wellspring birthed you from its divine womb.”

 “What’s so funny?” Elita-1 rasped.

 “Your stupidity, dear child. We did not release the beast that killed half of Tarn’s population. That was the work of Sentinel Prime.”

 “Sure, pin the blame on someone else.” Shadowkat spat.

 “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what a person Sentinel was. He’s a hardline warrior who hates us with a passion, and has connections to people even I wouldn’t cross. He could set the entirely of the Badlands aflame if it meant that we would take the blame for it all. Just to get a chance to annihilate us and play the part of the hero.” Steelheart shrugged and raised her sword. “But why am I telling you this? You’re both going to be dead anyway.”

 Elita-1 focused hard on the sword and just as Steelheart brought her arm down, she telekinetically pulled the blade from her grasp. It caught Steelheart by surprise and thus she wasn’t ready for Elita-1 using her own sword to stab her through the chest from behind. Steelheart stared at the blade sticking out of her chest in shock and then turned her gaze to Elita-1’s blue eyes.

 “RRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

 The scream that Steelheart gave was like listening to someone lose the last shreds of their sanity. A wave of power flowed off her and pressed Shadowkat and Elita-1 into the wall even harder. Steelheart snapped the blade from her chest and threw it and the sword handle aside before firing a powerful energy bolt that blasted them through the wall and into another room. Elita-1 rolled across the floor until she stopped in front of an old, cracked mirror. Elita-1 saw her reflection in this mirror, she saw the fear in her own eyes, and it made her angry. Angry for being dragged into this nightmare by some religious despot using god’s name to commit atrocities.  

 Clenching her fists, she spun around, only to see Steelheart lunging at her with one arm pulled back for a fatal strike. Elita-1, startled by her speed, had no time to react or defend herself. Then she felt that familiar sensation of something passing through her body and saw Shadowkat phase in front of her, standing right in Steelheart’s path.

 “Shadowkat!” She cried out.

 Shadowkat gave her a warm smile, even as Steelheart’s arm tore through her chest, crushing her Spark core. Feeling the life fade from her body, Shadowkat lifted one arm and pressed the button on the grenade she was holding. Knowing that Elita-1 could protect herself from the explosion, she allowed it to detonate and engulf her and Steelheart in the explosion.

 ‘I’m gonna see you soon, Blackbeetle. Just wait for me.’ Were her final thoughts.

 “SHADOWKAT!!!!”

XXXXXX

 Kaon was burning. Starscream, his Seekers and the other Decepticon flyers were wreaking havoc on the city from above, their reach longer than their brothers and sisters on the ground. They targeted monuments, statues, estates, businesses, anything that the privileged upper caste had arrogantly lorded over the masses. Those who lacked aerial alt modes still had sufficient enough time to cause chaos on the ground. Nightshade had them form a line starting from the Council citadel and mobilized them outward in a strong line, with some bots moving ahead to take out any unwanted surprises. The local law enforcement and the Elite Guard were pushed to their limit as the lack of communication made coordinating a counterattack very difficult.

 Sentinel Prime and his strike team were spread thin as they tried to quell the insurrection, but the constant air strikes and guerilla warfare tactics made by surprisingly competent gladiators made advancing towards the heart of enemy territory near impossible. They could even hope to face Megatron when they couldn’t contact the other teams.

 “Still no good, not a single damn channel!” Leadshot (cybertron Scattershot) shouted. He ducked under a missile and fired his shoulder pulse cannons at the attacker, who ducked behind a fallen statue for cover. “Just too many crazies. Are we even making a difference here?”

 “Prime, what do we do?” Asked Hound.

 Sentinel surveyed the area. Megatron was most likely coordinating the battle from the rear, near the citadel and park area. Nightshade and Soundwave were the ones on the front lines leading the steady barrage against the city, moving outward like a wave of death and destruction from the city square. Already they had done so much damage; attacking supply depots, collapsing bridges and highways, carpet bombing military installations and communications towers. He even saw a Seeker carry one of his mechs into the air before dropping him to his death.

“Prime!” Prowl called out to him. “What can we do?”

 Sentinel scowled and transformed into his armored truck mode. “I’m going Apex. Hold the line.”

 He left his men fighting off the mob assault the base as he drove back through the war torn streets towards HQ. There was a vault at the back of the armory where the Apex armor units were stashed for exclusive use by the Primal Vanguard on missions. Sentinel smashed through the front doors before transforming and marched towards the vault, but was stopped by a guard with gold armor and a pyramid shaped head.

 “Hold it!” He shouted. “You’re going nowhere!”

 “I’m Sentinel Prime you fool.” Sentinel growled. “Requesting clearance of Apex facilities.”

 “Request denied, Prime.” The guard said. “You need the senate’s approval.”

 Fine.” Sentinel took out his plasma cannon and blasted the vault door, along with the guard, to atoms before walking over the mech’s smoking slag ridden body. “Thanks.”

XXXXXX

 Near the edge of the Decepticons’ offensive push, Nightshade and Soundwave were making an attempt at attacking the Kaonian record hall where the city’s financial and military information was stored under encrypted lock and key. Nightshade had sent Drag Strip and Dead End ahead to scout any openings in the defensive perimeter that didn’t involve her getting shot out of the sky, and had to duck when a Seeker’s stray missile went shooting over her head.

 “This is madness.” She muttered. She looked to her left to see Motormaster arguing with a Decepticon.

 “I said find me the front line! Hell, any line!” He shouted, his sword red hot and coat in evaporating energon.

 “Motormaster, it’s chaos out there! We can barely find our own people let alone Mega-“

 “Run away!”

 “Fall back!”

 They turned to see a group of mechs get completely destroyed as they were running down the street. They were killed by an intense missile strike that lit the street up in a massive fireball. They heard something heavy moving through the rubble, firing laser cannons in rapid succession. Nightshade and Motormaster shared an uneasy glance.

 “What the hell was that?” Motormaster asked.

 “Motormaster, you’re on my six,” Nightshade took out her assault rifle. “Breakdown, alert Soundwave to the situation and hold this position no matter what.”

 They ran down the street, climbing over the remains of a collapsed apartment building and turned a corner to see the avenue littered with Decepticon bodies, many of them either crushed or blown beyond recognition. Before either of them could be angered by the sight of their dead comrades, the sound of heavy footsteps put them on high alert as a large suit of armor stomped its way towards them.

 It was Sentinel Prime. Donned in his Apex armor, he stood two meters taller than Nightshade, and dwarfed even Motormaster in size. On his back were four particle cannons, on his shoulder a missile pod, and in his hands were a pair of military issue pulse cannons. Right now, with his silhouette outlined by the flames behind him, Prime certainly lived up to his armor’s namesake, the original Apex armor forged by the mythical Solus Prime. Inside it, he was essentially a walking artillery unit, and his HUD was complete with threat level assessments, power readings and communications. He glared down at the two Cons with unrestrained fury.

 “Nightshade, I’ve finally found you, you filthy beast.” He said, stomping over the bodies to reach her. “Where’s Megatron?”

 “Go to hell. You were too weak to face us with your bare hands so you need a fancy battlesuit to fight us? Some Prime you are!” Nightshade hissed.

 Sentinel fired his pulse cannons, forcing Motormaster and Nightshade to scatter. While Motormaster transformed and drove away, presumably in fear, Nightshade went into beast mode and flew circles around Sentinel, firing micro-missiles from her wings that peppered the armored Prime with explosions. Sentinel fired three heat seekers in her direction, but she easily led them astray and escaped free. He growled in annoyance and followed after her, firing his particle cannons in repeating patterns to force her on the run. Push her hard enough and she’ll most likely retreat back to Megatron. Soon, their little firefight had led to a large park that looked like someone had drove through it on treads, bordered by a large tunnel leading to the waterway that traveled over to a sharp downward sliding slope.

 “Boost reserve power to comm system and repeat transmit the following message: resistance center line is broken-anyone receiving relay this message to all channels and issue a rally. This is where we push. Hard. Repeat, apex equipped unit is the spearpoint. Rally on me.” He reported. He looked around for any sign of Nightshade, but found that she was gone. “She would run, the coward.”

 He walked into the tunnel, scanning for any signs of life, but could find none. “Broadcast to optic team lead, priority one target’s location.” He called. When he got no reply, he tried calling again. “Optic lead, do you copy? I said priority one’s location. Optic lead…Hound?”

 Just when he realized that he was cut off from any support units, the wall next to him were blasted apart and a silver tank drove full speed towards him. Caught by surprise, Sentinel wasn’t fast enough to move as the tank’s black cannon fired a powerful beam into his chest.

XXXXXX

 Nightwielder’s assault on him was more aggressive this time. His attacks were more widespread and destructive, throwing around whips made of darkness around him to slam into the ground and leave deep trenches in the floor, trying to smash Orion to pieces. Orion did a few backflips to dodge the quick attack, but he tripped upon his landing and Nightwielder was on him in an instant. His scythe came down on the Autobot leader, but Orion deflected the blade with his axe, the only weapon he had on hand right now. They traded a few blows before Orion was hit in the chest by a powerful shadow fist and skidded along the ground to the exiting hallway. As Nightwielder flew at him on a wave of darkness, he did the only thing he could do and ran.

 Orion ran through the maze of hallways, past faded portraits and regal statues of knights, past the broken windows and the ongoing battle for dominance outside. He was still distraught over Roller’s abrupt demise and was constantly looking behind him to see if Nightwiedler was chasing after him like some monster batch inhibitors would tell protoforms to get them to go to sleep. Around the last corner, Orion exited the hall into a large circular courtyard outside, and almost ran headfirst into Nightwielder’s scythe.

 He leaned back and let the scythe sail over his face before elbowing him in the face plate, cracking it. He swung his axe, but it passed through Nightwielder’s body and left him open to his returning strike. It was only because of his training with Jazz that Orion was able to wave his body around the curved blade and pull out a combat knife from his hip compartment, stabbing it into Nightwielder’s side. What later saved Orion from a retaliatory strike was a bright flash of light exploding from the second floor and crashing into the courtyard. In an instant, Nightwielder’s body turned solid and Orion capitalized on this chance, swinging his axe and digging the heated blade into the outlier’s neck, severing his head in one clean stroke.

 Nightwielder’s head fell to the ground along with his body, but Orion paid him no more attention as he gazed into the battle being fought just a few feet from him. Elita-1 and Steelheart were fighting like brawlers, both holding swords, though they were old and worn, and each clash of their blades sending out a shockwave that made Orion’s bones shake. Elita-1 fought with a fury he didn’t know she had, a rose colored aura around her body as she hacked and slashed away at Steelheart, with golden strands of energy hitting her telekinetic defenses like waves against a rock. In a move that would even make Yoketron proud, Elita-1 let Steelheart overextend her sword arm and grabbed the limb, leaping up to slam her knee into Steelheart’s face. It was then that Orion noticed that she was missing her left arm.

 “Is this how you treat your fellow kin? Someone who offers people like us salvation?” Steelheart said, kicking Elita-1 hard in the side and sending her hitting a statue at the center of the courtyard. “I’m doing god’s work by granting outliers a place at the top of the world! Me, the messiah, who will bring order and stability to Cybertron!”

 “You’re not saving us. You’re enslaving outliers for some righteous crusade, using Primus’s name as an excuse to absolve yourself of sin!” Elita-1 roared, smacking her blade against Steelheart’s. “You’re a genocidal maniac. You’re no messiah!”

 “I AM A MESSIAH!!!” Steelheart shouted, leaping at Elita-1 and slashing a curved energy wave at her that destroyed the surrounding support pillars as she made her big push. “I AM THE ONE WHO WILL LEAD OUR PEOPLE ACROSS THE STARS! I AM THE ONE WHO WILL MAKE OUR RACE THE GREATEST IN THE UNIVERSE. I AM THE ONE WHO WILL SPREAD THE PRIMAL PROCHECIES TO EVERY CORNER OF THIS EXISTNACE!!!!!”

 With each word, she continuously slammed her blade against Elita-1’s defense, each strike a powerful shockwave that almost blew Orion off his feet. “All this, preserving Cybertron in its darkest hour, bringing order back to the terrified masses that lived in fear of a silent death. It was all my doing. Not yours, not the senate’s, not Sentinel’s, MINE!!”

 Her last strike shattered Elita-1’s sword and cut her across the chest diagonally. Steelheart grabbed her head and slammed her into the ground over and over until Elita-1 was lying at the bottom of a crater, her body wracked with pain and warning messages flittering across her vision. Still, she held on strongly, if only to give Steelheart some parting words to piss her off.

 “We aren’t some cogs that can be thrown away on a whim, and Cybertron isn’t some giant machine!” Elita-1 sneered. “That kind of thinking is what started this mess!”

 Elita-1 shot out of the crater and threw a punch at Steelheart. Steelheart grabbed her fist and jumped into the air, spinning Elita-1’s body around before throwing her back into the crater. She landed in front of Elita-1 and positioned her sword over her chest.

 “As I’ve said, I’m simply doing the lord’s work. It’s people like you who think that by going against the law of nature, you’re doing something good. But you’re just causing untold suffering to Cybertron and her people. I will cleanse this world of such sinners…starting with you!”

 Just as she raised her sword, Orion Pax leapt up behind her and brought his axe down on her head. Steelheart had no time to react as the red hot blade dug into her cranium and proceeded to cut into her skull, shattering her face plate. Energy discharged from her body, but Orion gritted his teeth and kept on cutting her body in half, not stopping until his axe blade had split her torso to her crotch and finally cut its way free.

XXXXXX

 Sentinel was thrown to the ground by Megatron, and knocked his fusion cannon aside with his double bladed sword. He tried to stab Megatron, but the gladiator jumped back and shifted his hand into his spied mace, throwing the spiked ball into Sentinel’s face and drawing first blood. Prime staggered back, but stood strong, though his mouth guard was slightly damaged.

 The Apex armor unit barely protected Sentinel from Megatron’s first attack, and now it lay in pieces at his feet as Megatron had literally tore it off him in an attempt to rip him apart. Now they fought in the middle of the park in one of the most critical battles of the modern age. Megatron quickly learned that Sentinel was a surprisingly competent warrior, but that wouldn’t help him tonight.

 “I’ve heard that we only gain wisdom through suffering,” Megatron said, spinning his mace. “Well, tonight, I intend on making you very wise.”

 With speed betraying his size, he lunged at Prime and punched him hard in the chest, forcing Sentinel back. He stepped back a couple of paces before hitting the golden fence that bordered the steep drop of the balcony used for seeing the entirety of Kaon from above. It was a steep drop below, almost two stories to the ground, and one wrong move could mean certain death for the loser. Sentinel didn’t plan on losing this far into the game.

 “If you want to change things so much, Megatron, why don’t you start with yourself?” Sentinel asked.

 Megatron huffed. “Change? Oh, I’ve changed alright. This journey of mine has taught me many lessons…the most important being how people like you must be forced to change to survive. I see through wiser eyes now. Wise enough to see that this is the twilight of your era…and the dawn of mine!”

 He threw a punch at Sentinel, who caught his fist and headbutted the Decepticon leader before punching him in the jaw. “Your ways, criminal? Don’t make me laugh!” He kicked Megatron in the chest. “And when you’ve crisscrossed this planet with your thugs, what will you do then?”

 He lifted Megatron over his head and slammed him into the ground. Megatron retaliated with a hard punch to Sentinel’s crotch area that made the Prime double over for a moment.

 “I will burn everything and remake into what this world is supposed to be!”

 He pointed his cannon at Prime’s face, but Sentinel grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulder. Megatron crashed through the fence and fell over the ledge, but managing to hold onto the cliff. Sentinel calmly walked over to Megatron before reaching down and grabbing him by the neck to lift him up to eye level.

 “You barbarians preach about being deceived, but this insurrection, this treachery is the worst deception!” Sentinel shouted. “I should’ve killed you myself ba-ack!”

 Sentinel’s words ended in a pained gurgle as Megatron stabbed a piece of shrapnel into his throat. He hunched over in pain, allowing Megatron to use his weight to pull them both over the edge.

 “That’s right Prime. We’re everything you said,” Megatron yelled. “And worse!”

 They descended the entire drop, hitting the cliff face along the way. Megatron pulled Sentinel under him and used him as a buffer to take the brunt of the fall as they crashed into the middle of a highway. Their impact drew the attention of nearby Decepticons, who quickly called it in. Megatron was still operational, but Sentinel was barely able to make his finger twitch, multiple broken bones and most of his systems in auto-repair.

 “I don’t care why you fight for these people, this place, this order,” Megatron grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, glaring down at Sentinel. “It must change. I will make it change. And whoever is in my path-Primus help them.”

 “Doesn’t… _*CHK*_ matt…ter…* _GLKUK*…_ don’t…mat-r…* _skk…_ others…* _schk*…_ come…” Sentinel wheezed through a severely damaged vocoder. He could barely move his lips.

 As Nightshade, Soundwave, and the other Decepticons gathered around the crater, Megatron stood over Sentinel. “I don’t think so, Sentinel Prime.” He said and pointed his fusion cannon at Sentinel’s chest. “It’ll matter when they see what I’ve done to you.”

 With his piece said, Megatron fired his cannon and the grin he gave Sentinel was the last thing the false Prime would see as he became the first person to die at Megatron’s fusion cannon.

XXXXXX

 At the regional command post, Prowl was still trying to contact Iacon for reinforcements. Leadshot had connected a few powerlines from a generator to Prowl’s transmitter to increase the broadcast signal to pierce the blackout hanging over the city. After a few minutes, their efforts were met with success.

 “The boosting worked-Prowl, we’re through to Iacon.” Leadshot said.

 Prowl nodded and switched on his transmitter, revealing the holographic profile of Ultra Magnus. “Ultra Magnus, this is Prowl. Can you read me?”

 “ _Prowl, please confi *CHHT* do you *CHHHT*that backup, over?”_

Before Prowl could reply, he heard Brawn yell ”Incoming!” as a large Decepticon bomber flew in low to them. Fortunately, the Con didn’t drop any bombs, rather it deposited, but he did drop something large at their doorstep before gaining altitude and flying away. The bots grouped around the payload and they all went quiet.

 “What’s wrong?” Prowl asked as he pushed to the front. “Talk to me, people, what’s…oh.”

 Prowl also went quiet as he studied Sentinel Prime’s corpse. It was severely damaged, with his mouth plate torn off, his arms and legs smashed beyond recognition, and a large smoking hole in his chest. Prowl scowled and closed his eyes.

 “We’re done here.” He said and called Iacon. “Negative on back up, Magnus. Redeploy as an evac team. That’s it for Kaon. We’re pulling out.”

XXXXXX

 The morning sun rose over the horizon to shine its light on the countless bodies of dead Enforcers and SOC soldiers. The casualty rate was depressingly high on both sides, even though the SOC forces won the battle. The surviving Enforcers surrendered once they learned that Steelheart and Nightwielder were dead. Refractionary had vanished as soon as she got the news, flying away after shooting down two dozen flyers and dropping two carriers, Skyhawk among them.

 Orion and Elita-1 had dragged Roller’s body outside and laid him next to the other fallen soldiers. The only thing that was left of Shadowkat was her tail, which somehow survived the destruction of her body. The remaining Autobots gathered around their fallen friends as Skids said a prayer in their memory. No one said anything after the prayer ended. They just stood there as the surviving SOC forces secured the area and piled more bodies into the heart of the fortress.

 “This is a nightmare.” Chromedome said softly. His headmaster form sat in his alt mode, head on the dashboard.

 “At least we won.” Windcharger said. “At least they didn’t die for nothing.”

 “It would’ve been better if they didn’t have to die at all.” Skids grumbled.

 Chromedome looked at Orion and Elita-1, who stood together in silence, and haven’t said a thing since leaving the castle. “Let’s just call it in. I want to leave this god forsaken place.”

 “ _No need to, Chromedome. I got the message.”_

 Everyone saw Zeta’s personal shuttle fly over the fortress and land. Zeta had disembarked before the landing hatch was even fully open. She was smiling, but that was gone as she saw Roller and Shadowkat’s remains.

 “I’m so sorry.” Zeta said. “I was afraid that you all didn’t make it, but…”

 “Well, at least you have someone to thank.” Windcharger said. “That’s something at least.”

 Zeta pursed her lips and looked at Orion. “Pax, I know this isn’t the time, but I’ve got some bad news for you.”

 “What is it?” He asked dully.

 “It’s the senate. I just got word from Iacon that the senate was massacred by Megatron and his Decepticons.” Orion finally switched his gaze from the bodies of his friends to Zeta as she gave the report. “Sentinel Prime is dead, and the Decepticons now have control of Kaon. Megatron is giving a speech on all channels over the Grid as we speak.”

XXXXXX

 Megatron sat on a throne fashioned from the scraps of the ruined citadel, built for him by the Constructicons. Nightshade and Soundwave stood at his sides, waiting and watching as he addressed the Decepticon crowd that numbered in the thousands now. Mechs and femmes from all castes, mostly the middle and lower ones, hung on his every word as he spoke to them.

 

 “I told you that we were stronger than them, and last night we proved that. What we have accomplished here; liberating Kaon from those elitist bastards and making the Elite Guard turn tail and run like cowards, is something that all shall remember in the coming cycles! Sentinel Prime and the senate are rusting in hell, and we are now in control of Kaon!” He bellowed. “After Tarn’s burning, I swore to never let something like that happen again. That tragedy opened my eyes to just how deep this infection goes. No more will we be treated as drones or disposable tools at the mercy of inefficient politicians. We are now free to reclaim Cybertron’s glory. We are individuals, cybertronians born from the same primal source. Our alt modes no longer dictate our fates, and neither do the so-called government. Kaon is now a Decepticon state, and soon the rest of the Badlands will bear our symbol as we march across the planet and bring true freedom to this world!

 The crowd cheers and called out praise for their leader. Megatron smiled and stood up, letting the sunlight glint off his silver armor.

 “Once we have taken control of this world, we will reach to the stars and bring about a new cybertronian empire that likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Golden Age. Those inferior organic races that once laughed and jeered at us will be brought to heel, and they will behold our planet as a symbol of racial pride. We are the superior race, the mechanical master race that will remake this universe in fire and iron. Functionism is dead, and true peace will be brought through tyranny.” Megatron raised his fist into the air. “We will never be slaves…but we will be conquerors!”

 As their leader’s declaration, the Decepticons raised their fists in victory and chanted his name as he gave his war cry.

 “Decepticons! Transform and rise up!”

**The end.**


End file.
